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"Damn it," Jason muttered under his mask as he surveyed the scene scattered with riddles and clues. Gotham City's infamous Riddler was at it again, and tonight, Batman was nowhere to be found.
He gritted his teeth, determined to solve the riddles and crack the case himself. As he approached the first clue, he couldn't help but let out a frustrated sigh. "Why does Penguin get to stay in Arkham while we deal with this brainiac and his stupid riddles?"
Jason was locked in an intellectual battle, trying to decipher Riddler's twisted riddles and clues. Hours passed as he pored over the evidence, each answer leading him to the next riddle. By the time he finally reached what he thought was the end of the puzzle, he was exhausted, both physically and mentally.
Robin smirked under his mask as he stared down the Riddler. "Hey, Riddler," he said with a hint of mockery.
The Riddler's expression soured. "What, brat?"
Robin chuckled, enjoying the opportunity to tease his nemesis. "Here's a riddle for you," he said, crossing his arms confidently.
The Riddler rolled his eyes. "Oh, this should be good," he muttered sarcastically.
"How do you confuse an idiot?" Robin asked, his grin widening.
The Riddler's brow furrowed, trying to figure out the riddle. "How?" he finally asked, clearly growing impatient.
Robin's grin grew even wider, enjoying the Riddler's annoyance. "Bicycle," he said with satisfaction, fully expecting the villain to be baffled.
The Riddler's expression turned puzzled. "What?" he asked incredulously, completely befuddled by the non sequitur. "That doesn’t make any sense," he argued, his irritation obvious.
Robin chuckled, unable to hold back his amusement. "Well, I guess we found the idiot," he quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
The Riddler stayed quiet for a moment, his annoyance turning into anger. "When you die," he taunted, his voice filled with malice, "I won't send flowers to your funeral."
Robin stuck out his tongue defiantly. "You better check my grave yourself to make sure I'm really gone," he retorted, challenging the Riddler.
The Riddler huffed, clearly frustrated with Robin's nonchalance. "You're lucky Batman isn't here to put you in your place," he spat, his fists clenching.
It was a month later, and the Riddler sat in his cell in Arkham Asylum, the bleak room offering little distraction. He unfolded the newspaper, and his eyes fell on the front-page headline:
ROBIN DIED AFTER EXPLOSION, MORE ON PAGE 3
A twisted smirk crept across his face as he read the words. "So, the brat finally met his end," he muttered.
A sinister sense of satisfaction washed over him as he continued reading the article. "Looks like the Joker has finally gotten rid of the pest," he thought to himself. "Serves him right for interfering with my plans all these years."
-
Years later, after Robin was killed, the Riddler faced a new crime lord, Red Hood.
"Hey Riddler," Red Hood called out, his voice muffled by his helmet.
The Riddler looked up, his brows furrowed. "What?"
Under his helmet, Red Hood grinned. "Looks like someone forgot to check my grave."
It took the Riddler a moment to process the words, but then his eyes went wide, and his cane slipped from his hands. "Motherfucker," he murmured.
The Riddler stared at Red Hood, his mouth gaping open in disbelief. He recognized the voice, the way he carried himself. There was no mistaking who it was.
"You..." he sputtered, his mind struggling to catch up. "How? You were dead!"
Red Hood chuckled under his helmet, his smirk growing wider. "Turns out, I'm harder to kill than you think," he said with a hint of mockery.
The Riddler staggered back, his mind racing. "But... but I read the newspaper! You died in an explosion!"
Red Hood stepped closer, his footsteps ominous and intimidating. "Yeah, the Joker really thought he got the better of me," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "But here I am, back and better than ever."
Later that night, it wasn’t difficult for the Riddler to find Robin’s grave. He knew it was the second one, but with so many Robins over the years, it was a challenge. He finally found it and confirmed it was empty.
The Riddler's heart raced as he stood before the grave. He had gone through the records, trying to find the correct one, and now that he had found it, the reality sank in. Robin was gone, and Red Hood was back.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the empty grave, his mind still struggling to comprehend how it was possible.
"How could this happen?" he muttered to himself, his voice a mixture of confusion and shock. "How did he come back from the dead? And more importantly, why hasn't Batman done anything about it?"
-
It was 2 AM on a random Thursday. In the dead of night, he stood atop the GCPD rooftop by the Bat-Signal, flicking it on and off frantically.
"Where are you, Robin?" he muttered, desperation creeping into his voice. "Come on, where the fuck is he?!"
The rooftop was empty, illuminated only by the dim street lamps below. The silence was deafening as Riddler waited impatiently, the Bat-Signal casting its call into the dark night.
"Damn it, where is he?!" he hissed, his irritation growing with every passing minute.
Commissioner Gordon, who had come to use the signal, stared at the scene, bewildered. Holding a mug of coffee, he asked, "How did you get up here?"
Riddler, ignoring Gordon’s question, posed his own, "Riddle me this: what dies and doesn’t stay in its grave?"
Gordon blinked slowly, trying to keep up. "A zombie?"
Riddler impatiently shook his head, his patience wearing thin. "No, no, no, it's not a zombie," he retorted, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Think harder, Commissioner."
Commissioner Gordon thought harder. "A ghoul?"
Riddler shook his head, his voice tinged with irritation. "No, you fool. A ghost. Or in this case," he paused, a scowl forming, "a resurrected brat with a vendetta."
Gordon looked puzzled, struggling to comprehend what the Riddler was saying. "A resurrected... you mean Robin?" he asked, his eyes widening.
Riddler nodded impatiently, his frustration growing with each passing moment. "Yes, Robin! The brat came back from the dead, and now I need Batman to deal with him before he causes more trouble!"
Gordon blinked again, staring into his coffee as if questioning whether he had put too much whiskey in it. "Maybe I need to cut back on the late-night drinks," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief at the unfolding events.
As Gordon tried to process the bizarre situation, the Bat-Signal continued to flicker in the night sky, casting an eerie glow over the city of Gotham. Riddler stood there, frustration etched on his face, while Gordon wondered just how much crazier this night could get.
Riddler could barely contain his impatience. He fidgeted nervously, his eyes darting around the rooftop, searching the shadows for any sign of Batman's imminent arrival.
The Bat-Signal flickered erratically, its glow casting a haunting light on the duo, creating an atmosphere of suspense and dread. Riddler glanced at the empty horizon, his frustration turning into anger.
As if the situation couldn’t get more absurd, a figure in a Robin suit landed gracefully on the rooftop. Damian Wayne, in his full Robin attire, stood ready for action, having been alerted by the flickering Bat-Signal.
Riddler threw up his hands in exasperation. "You're the wrong Robin!"
Damian raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "I'm the only Robin you’re getting tonight. Now, what’s going on here?"
Gordon sighed, feeling the night spiraling further out of control. "It's a long story, kid."
Riddler, visibly frustrated, turned to face Damian. "Why couldn't it have been the other one?"
Damian, still calm, replied, "Red Robin is in space, so what's new, Riddler?"
Riddler groaned in frustration. "No, I mean the one who doesn't want to stay dead!"
Damian blinked, pointing at himself. "Me?"
Riddler shook his head, even more exasperated. "No, the second Robin who now plays at being a crime lord!"
Damian's face paled as realization set in. He knew who Riddler was talking about.
"You mean..." he said, his voice betraying a hint of concern.
Riddler nodded, his irritation obvious. "Yes, I mean Jason Todd, the resurrected Robin who’s causing chaos as Red Hood. Where is Batman? I need him to deal with this mess!"
Gordon scratched his head, trying to piece it all together. "So... he’s a zombie crime lord?"
Riddler threw his hands up, barely containing his frustration. "Yes, Gordon, a zombie crime lord! Is that really so hard to understand?"
Gordon looked back at his coffee, sighing deeply. "Definitely cutting back," he muttered, as the bizarre scene continued to unfold.
The night continued in its chaotic, absurd state. Riddler, Gordon, and Damian stood on the rooftop, each grappling with the strange situation unfolding before them.
The Bat-Signal continued to flicker, creating an eerie glow around the trio. Riddler paced back and forth, his agitation palpable while Damian stood still, his mind racing. Gordon simply gazed into his coffee, clearly questioning his decision to work the late shift.
Suddenly, a voice broke the silence, "What seems to be the problem here?" Everyone turned to see Batman perched on the edge of the rooftop.
Riddler immediately burst into a tirade. "Batman, finally! Why haven’t you done anything about your dead sidekick? He’s back from the dead, wreaking havoc on the city as Red Hood!"
Batman's expression remained stoic, betraying none of the complex emotions he felt. He had heard rumors of Jason's return, but hearing it confirmed unsettled him.
Riddler's frustration hit its peak. "Got better? He came back from the dead! That’s not something you 'get better' from!" he retorted, his voice rising in anger.
Gordon, struggling to wrap his mind around the conversation, finally spoke up. "So, he's not like a traditional zombie?"
Batman grunted in frustration. "No, Gordon, he’s not a zombie. He’s just... Jason."
Riddler threw his hands up in the air. "Just Jason, who's come back from the dead and is now a criminal! That doesn’t make it any better!"
Batman’s patience began to wear thin. His voice took on a stern, authoritative tone. "Enough, Riddler. I said I’d handle it, and I will."
Later in Wayne Manor:
The Wayne Manor living room was bathed in a somber atmosphere, the weight of the situation heavy upon the faces of the family. Bruce Wayne, Batman, sat in a leather armchair, his gaze fixed upon Jason Todd, seated across from him.
Jason, dressed in his Red Hood attire, leaned back in his chair, his expression a mix of defiance and indifference.
Bruce broke the tense silence. "You gave Riddler a mental breakdown, Jaylad."
Jason shrugged nonchalantly, a sly smirk playing on his lips. "What can I say, I have that effect on people," he replied with a hint of cocky pride.
Damian, ever the stoic, rolled his eyes, clearly unamused by Jason's nonchalance. "You're not helping the situation," he said curtly.
Dick, ever the mediator, tried to maintain a more neutral tone. "Jason, you can’t just go around giving Riddler mental breakdowns. Or anyone, for that matter."
Jason's smirk faded slightly, but the defiance remained in his eyes. "What did you expect? He had it coming."
Bruce leaned forward, his tone serious. "This isn't just about the Riddler, Jason. It's about how you’re handling things. We need to work together, not against each other."
The room fell into an uneasy silence, each member of the Bat-family lost in their own thoughts. The challenges ahead were clear, and the road to redemption and unity seemed longer than ever.
Damian added, "And Gordon was affected too. He's now even more questioned why he deals with the night shift."
Jason leaned forward, his grin growing wider. "Oh, lighten up, Dick and pipsqueak. The old commish needs a good mind-f*ck every now and then. Keeps him on his toes."
Dick shook his head, clearly exasperated. "You know, you really haven’t changed, Jay."
Damian huffed, "They believe now you're sorta a ghoul or a zombie, Todd."
Jason smirked under his helmet. "A ghoul, huh? Guess I'm more terrifying than I thought."
Damian rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Todd. They think you're either a ghoul or a zombie. You've got people believing in urban legends now."
Jason chuckled darkly. "Good. Let them wonder. Keeps them on their toes."
Damian huffed again, clearly annoyed. "You're enjoying this way too much."
Jason shrugged, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Hey, if the shoe fits..."
Bruce, who had remained relatively silent up to this point, finally spoke up. His voice, stern and paternal, cut through the banter. "Enough. We’re not here to discuss urban legends or frighten the citizens."
Jason's smirk faded for a moment, replaced by a hint of defiance. "Then what are we here for, old man? To give me a lecture?"
Alfred chimed in, having been in the room the whole time. "To eat dinner together, young Master Todd."
Jason's expression softened slightly upon seeing Alfred. Despite everything, respect for the Wayne family butler and surrogate father couldn’t be denied.
"Hey, Alfie," Jason said, a hint of warmth in his voice. "Didn’t see you there."
The tension in the room eased ever so slightly with the arrival of Alfred. Damian, still trying to keep his composure, crossed his arms and huffed. "Finally, some sense in this room."
Bruce took a deep breath, attempting to compose himself. "Alfred is right. Let’s put aside our differences for now and eat. We can discuss the situation afterward."
Dick, trying to keep the peace as always, nodded in agreement. "Bruce is right. We might as well enjoy some food before we dive back into this mess."
Jason, still somewhat defiant, shrugged again. "Fine, I’ll play nice... for now."