While Bane's massive, blood-soaked war machine was being dismantled piece by piece by an invisible, methodical hand, another self-proclaimed "king" of Gotham City simmered in fury.
Edward Nigma—the Riddler—sat inside his secret base, a cavern of flickering monitors and humming machinery, feeling something close to insult.
In his view, Bane's conquest through brute strength was primitive, almost vulgar. Yet what angered him more was Batman's response: violence met with colder, more precise violence. To Nigma, this was heresy against the supreme art of intellect.
"No! This shouldn't be happening!" He paced before his central console, green leotard flashing beneath the screen glow. "Gotham deserves to be ruled by unparalleled wisdom—not reduced to a wrestling pit for barbarians! I, Edward Nigma, am the only one worthy of being its true master!"
That wounded ego, fused with a pathological sense of destiny, drove him to act. His fingers slammed onto the keyboard, code cascading down the screens in dense green torrents.
The effect was immediate.
Across Gotham City, every screen flickered—then turned emerald. Giant commercial billboards, the display boards at Gotham Bank, televisions in cramped apartments, tablets on kitchen counters, even smart appliances in suburban homes—all were seized simultaneously.
A massive rotating question mark filled each display.
Then his face appeared at its center, stretched wide with manic delight.
"Listen carefully, Gotham! And you too, Bat lurking in the shadows!" His voice blared from speakers citywide. "Your dull, barbaric contest ends now! Violence breeds ruin—wisdom creates order. Let's elevate this city with a proper game!"
He grinned and delivered his challenge:
"I have cities, but no houses; forests, but no trees; rivers, but no water. What am I?"
He waited, savoring the imagined confusion spreading across the city. Surely the Bat would be forced to pause, to acknowledge the brilliance of Edward Nigma.
Deep within the Batcave, Bruce Wayne watched the oversized, ranting face on the main screen without expression. His eyes reflected not curiosity—but irritation.
It was the look of a man interrupted mid-calculation by a street performer.
"Annoying," he muttered flatly.
He did not bother solving the riddle aloud. The answer was trivial.
"Alfred," he said calmly, "mute the audio feed."
"Yes, sir."
The Riddler's triumphant speech vanished into silence.
"Computer," Bruce continued, voice steady, "trace the global broadcast origin of this signal. Simultaneously cross-reference all known Nigma hideouts, shell company properties, personal behavioral patterns—mother's birthday, preferred prime numbers, obsessive location symbolism—and abnormal power consumption across Gotham over the past three years. Deliver every viable hideout possibility, including decoys and redundancies. Three seconds."
"Command received. Initiating multi-layer data synthesis."
The Bat-computer's quantum processors surged to life. Data flooded the screens, transforming into a cascading lattice of connections—financial records, energy spikes, encrypted routing signatures, psychological profiling overlays.
Patterns formed. Collapsed. Reformed.
Bruce's gaze remained steady, absorbing and filtering faster than the algorithms themselves.
One point of probability began to intensify. Then two. Then three secondary redundancies branching outward like a puzzle already half-solved.
In less than two seconds—
"Beep. Beep. Beep."
A cluster of coordinates pulsed red at the center of the display.
On Gotham's holographic map, six bright red coordinates flared to life at once. Each marker unfolded into layered schematics—structural blueprints, ventilation routes, thermal signatures, surrounding terrain analysis.
"Analysis complete," the Bat-computer reported. "Primary probability: Ace Chemical Plant, Old City district. Underground architecture and energy consumption patterns match Edward Nigma's historical behavioral profile with 97.8% accuracy."
Bruce studied the six glowing points, a faint, humorless curve forming at the corner of his mouth. "Predictable."
He rose. The V8.03 Knight battlesuit responded with a subdued hum of servos and reinforced plating shifting into place. Instead of selecting a lighter pursuit vehicle, he walked toward the cavern's deepest platform—where the Batmobile rested like a dormant steel predator.
Moments later, thunder split the night. The vehicle burst from the waterfall passage in an eruption of engine roar and spray, its angular black chassis tearing onto Gotham's main roads without hesitation. It did not hide. It did not weave through side routes. It advanced directly. Abandoned cars and improvised barricades were shoved aside by armored mass as if weightless.
The first target—an abandoned toy factory in the industrial district—had been prepared as a theatrical "level." A massive electronic lock sealed the entrance, lights flashing in elaborate sequences. Hidden speakers replayed the Riddler's voice on loop:
"What has a door but never walks? Solve it, little Bat."
Inside the cockpit, Bruce regarded the display without interest. "Combat configuration."
Mechanical locks shifted. A turret rose from the Batmobile's roofline, the cannon rotating into firing position.
"The answer is a map," Bruce said flatly. He pulled the trigger.
A controlled burst reduced the reinforced gate—and much of the adjacent wall—to fractured debris. He did not exit the vehicle. The searchlights swept the interior, identifying automated turrets and motion-triggered traps. A second barrage disabled the equipment in seconds, leaving only sparking metal and smoke. Then he moved on.
An underground parking structure followed. Then an abandoned subway platform. Then two more decoys. Each location dismantled with clinical efficiency, riddles ignored, elaborate mechanisms reduced to scrap before they could activate.
Deep beneath the Ace Chemical Plant, Edward Nigma watched the destruction unfold across his monitor array. Confidence drained from his expression, replaced first by confusion, then disbelief.
"He can't… he wouldn't…"
Every "puzzle," every carefully layered intellectual obstacle, erased not through deduction—but through uncompromising force.
When the Batmobile's reinforced prow breached the final security door of his primary control chamber, the impact echoed like a verdict.
Bruce stepped out, boots striking concrete with measured calm.
The Riddler launched into a frantic monologue, shouting a complex philosophical riddle he had long prepared—something about existence, meaning, cosmic paradox. His voice trembled between rage and desperation.
Bruce did not slow. As he passed, he answered it in a single sentence—simple, direct, undeniable.
Edward froze. The sound left his throat.
Bruce reached the central terminal and began typing. His hands moved steadily, efficiently—no wasted motion.
"Your performance is over, Edward," he said without raising his voice. "Now we address consequences."
On the monitors, account balances flickered. Offshore holdings rerouted. Shell corporations dissolved into legal transfers.
"I have reallocated the contents of your concealed international accounts—two hundred fifty-seven million, thirteen thousand, four hundred twenty U.S. dollars—to a charitable foundation for victims of violent crime. Anonymous donation. Fully documented."
Patent registries updated in real time.
"Your energy and network technology patents have been transferred to Wayne Enterprises' legal archive for public infrastructure development. You've made a contribution to Gotham's future."
Nigma staggered backward. "No… you can't—those are mine!"
"You retain one asset," Bruce replied. "Your intellect. I suggest you reconsider how you use it."
The final security locks disengaged remotely. Law enforcement sirens, distant but approaching, filtered faintly through the concrete structure.
The Riddler collapsed into a chair, breath unsteady, eyes unfocused—not physically harmed, but stripped of leverage, spectacle, and control.
Bruce turned toward the Batmobile. For him, the operation had required neither anger nor satisfaction.
It had simply been a problem.
And the solution had been implemented.