A riddlebat fanfic riddled with angst, lactose intolerance, and love confessions. Bruce Wayne, the Batman, goes undercover on a social media website to hunt down the Riddler, a streamer who has been terrorizing Gotham by exposing its corruption thro...
The picture slowly loaded onto the screen– the internet was slow. This was it. I was going to see him, the Riddler. I would uncover his identity and finally be able to put an end to this. As the picture loaded, my heart beating with anticipation, and I felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of my face and fall onto the keyboard. I wondered what this man looked like; he was a tough ruthless criminal. A murderer. Only a hardened criminal could pull off something like this. He was strong enough to pin down a man, murder him, and artistically duct tape him. I imagined a strong, tattooed, ruthless, buff man. I then remembered he also had a Reddit and SpaceHey account– as Urban Dictionary would say "chronically online" - and that image of him disappeared from my mind. He must have been the Redditor type— a neck beard possibly, but still strong enough to murder a man. Finally, the picture loaded...
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I let out a gasp, and then audibly sighed. He was so... aquatic. He reminded me of a prawn... a shrimp... the whole damn aquarium. Most of all he reminded me of an axolotl. This wasn't how I envisioned him. It wasn't a BAD thing... just surprising, I guess. I quickly wrote back.
"i didn't expect such an... angelic face. in a good way. you ARE the fearsome leader of the no more lies movement. you remind me of an axolotl".
I waited a bit and sent a second message.
"my favorite creature".
I was in shock that he was so willing to show me his face. I noticed him typing. I waited for a response that eventually said,
"You're my only follower who has seen my face. Could I see yours?"
I..I... What was I supposed to send back!!?!!?!? I couldn't let the Riddler know that I was Bruce Wayne. He hated Bruce Wayne; I personally found him really cool and emo, and he had an epic haircut and was really good at eyeliner. His parents were also dead if you didn't know. But I digress; he couldn't know I was Batman either. What was I supposed to send??? I heard about these things called catfishes from Alfredo. I was catfished once on Animal Jam. Sad story. Like the story about how my parents died.
I had no idea how to reply. It had already been a few minutes. I couldn't have him being suspicious. I looked out the window in desperation, and just as I did I saw it. The Bat symbol. I was needed in Gotham. Gotham required its Vengeance. I quickly rushed to the Batcave, forgetting all about the message.
When I returned, I rushed up to the computer. When I opened the computer I saw my age old enemy... the screen time lock. Alfredo had limited me to three hours of screen time per day. It was so annoying. I didn't need parental controls. I didn't even have parents.
"Alfredo... I mean ALFRED come enter in the password for the computer," I shouted down the hall.
"Sir you know there is a three hour time limit... besides, you are to attend the mayor's funeral".
"OMG YOU'RE NOT MY DAD" I growled back. I didn't have a dad; he was dead. I didn't have a mom either, but my dad was the most dead.
"Sir, I hope you are planning on wiping off that eyeliner before the funeral. I understand self- expression is very important to you, but this is a very important event".
"You're not my father Alfredo, stop trying to act like you are! I don't even want to go to the funeral!" I huffed and tried to walk away, but as I was turning Alfredo called out to me and said,
"I got your suit laid out for you. If you get dressed for the funeral in a timely manner, I will allow you to go to Hot Topic this weekend to reward your good behavior".
HOT TOPIC?!?! Alfred forbade me from that store, along with Spencer's. He considered them "degenerate". I was only allowed to shop at Old Navy, Dillard's, and J. Crew (whenever Alfredo was in the mood to splurge) only because he shopped at those places. I couldn't say no to a deal like that.
Regrettably, I put on my suit, sneaking eyeliner in my jacket pocket to put some on my waterline in the car. My butler escorted me to the car, and I got in the back. As soon as the car left the driveway, I whipped out my phone and applied the black pencil eyeliner, smudging it with my fingers so I could look edgier.
There were crowds of people outside of the funeral, including a group of army green- clad protesters chanting "No more lies!". I got out of the car, lowering my head to avoid the camera flashes. I hadn't shown my face in public much since my parents were murdered right in front of me. I was an orphan, so both of my parents were dead.
I ran into Mr. Falcone and Bella Reál before I could make my way to pay my respects to Don Mitchell's family. Well, not to their faces of course. I didn't like talking to people, and besides, it made me seem more edgy and emo. I just stared at his son. At least his mother was still alive because my mom wasn't. Or my dad. The boy started to turn his head– he must have felt my stone cold gaze– when a crash and screams filled the air. It took me half a second to realize what was rapidly approaching me: a car.
