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...
I watched in awe as Eddie was taken away from me. This was just like when my parents died (I was an orphan, that's why I didn't have parents (they were dead (because I was an orphan) (they were murdered)))). And he thought I was the one who turned him in. Betrayed him. I could never forget the way he looked at me as the cops dragged him away, all sweaty and heartbroken.
I sat in that lonely diner in my Batman uniform. I didn't feel like doing my usual vigilante hunts tonight. I poked a slice of pumpkin pie with my fork. Eddie had ordered it while I was in the bathroom; it was his favorite. I never tried pumpkin pie before because Alfredo didn't believe in Halloween or pumpkins. My parents couldn't celebrate Halloween because they were dead.
Alfredo... I needed to visit him. He would know what to do, if he was conscious. I changed out of my uniform and started my way to the hospital. Should I stop and get him a gift? A card? Quite possibly a balloon? As I was thinking, I quickly walked by a bakery. Of course, that was it. I would get him a cake. I decided to get him this:
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The cake decorator was horrified as I gave her my message, but she understood and was going to get paid either way. I left the bakery and found my way to the room Alfredo was staying in.
"Alfredo? I brought a cake for you."
He didn't acknowledge me. He seemed to be invested in whatever was on the tv. I almost didn't recognize him; he was wrapped in bandages.
"Oh no she didn't," he exclaimed.
"Alfredo?"
He took his TLC very seriously.
"I apologize, Master Bruce, the girls were fighting."
He finally acknowledged me. My parents couldn't acknowledge me because they were dead (they were not alive), meaning I was an orphan (my parents weren't alive (which means they were dead (which means I could not interact with them in any way)).
"I'm sorry, Alfredo. This is all my fault."
"Sir, you have no control over the drama between the ladies featured in hit tv drama, the Real Housewives of Gotham."
"Alfredo, I'm the reason you were hurt."
"Mr. Wayne, if you think any of this is your fault-"
"I'm the reason the Riddler sent the bomb to you. He wanted you out of the picture because I told him."
"Told him what?"
"That you would never approve of our... relationship."
He paused. "You're dating... that criminal?"
"I love him, Alfredo. If only you saw him as I see him. I can fix him. But now he's in prison and thinks I turned him in."
He shook his head in disbelief. He was clearly disappointed in me. My parents were never disappointed in me. They couldn't be disappointed in me now because they were dead.
"Sir, I have learned quite a few things about love and drama from this tv show. I've heard plenty of times that it is not your job to fix someone."
Not my job?Of course it was my job to fix him. I was like sexier Bob the Builder but emo and edgy.
"Well, what should I do?"
"I suggest talking it out will be helpful."
I had never been to Arkham before. I only heard about the horrors that lie inside– the inmates, the guards, the tests, the depravity of morals. Maybe I could explain everything to Eddie? How this was all a misunderstanding? Would he even believe me? I didn't know what I would do if he didn't. How could I possibly go on if I had ruined any chance of a relationship with him? I had pictured us in a quiet apartment outside of Gotham, where there was no corruption, no record high murders per capita rate, or any fighting. If this confrontation (part 2: the second one) went well, we could leave this decaying city behind us. Just like how my parents left me behind when they died (I was an orphan).
