Batman: Eternal: Season 3, Episode 17 - Riddles

“Slow down,” Dick said, gripping Damian’s shoulders.

“Santa Prisca. Bane’s home. His country. Taken over by Riddler. Riddler has wife of Freeze as well, and something to clear Catwoman’s record.”

“The leverage,” Dick said, “We secure Santa Prisca, and the means to give Catwoman a fresh start-”

“We beat Riddler,” Damian nodded.

“And you’re sure Freeze won’t flip? And he isn’t leading us on?”

Damian nodded. He wasn’t usually trusting. But Freeze had been truly genuine. He had to have been.

“Slade’s out of the picture now that he has his daughter,” Dick sighed, “No telling when Tim will return. We’re on our own.”

“Nightwing and Robin,” Damian stated.

“I think it’s your dad who officially dubs you Robin,” Dick pursed his lips, “How about Sparrow?”

Damian raised an eyebrow judgmentally, “You have the creativity level of a three-year-old.”

“Ooh. Love this dynamic. Should really help us out in the long run,” Dick said flatly, “And what do you suggest I call you, lord of imagination?”

“Demon.”

“Conveys heroism to me,” Dick shrugged.

“When I say something rude, I do so directly,” Damian narrowed his eyes, “Do not beat around the bush, Grayson. If you have something to say to me, tell me straight.”

“It’s nothing, Damian, we’re good,” Dick said, “Let’s focus on the mission.”

“Freeing Santa Prisca from Riddler,” Damian agreed.

“You ever been in the Batplane?” Dick grinned.


- - -


“I turn around once, what is out will not get in. I turn around again, what is in will not get out. What am I?”

Bruce thought a moment. He had been stripped of his suit. He was now dressed in black long underwear.

“Come now, Mr. Wayne, this is simple,” Riddler flicked his tongue against his canines in anticipation.

“A key.”

“Brilliant,” Riddler congratulated, producing a key from his mossy green vest.

Bruce lunged against the clear glass capsule he was in, slamming his fist in an attempt to break through.

Riddler stumbled back, even though he had nothing to fear. The top and bottom of the tube were fitted with steel plating, and the glass was extremely thick.

“You give me that key, Nashton,” Bruce growled.

“I must ask you not call me that,” Riddler sighed, “Not terribly fond of it. And this key? Useless. You think I carry around the key to your prison as I visit you?”

Riddler tossed the key away.

“Oh! Another one! Okay, five friends are keeping themselves busy around the house. Richard is doing pushups. Timothy is reading. Damian is working on homework. And Bruce, you are playing chess. Now what am I- your fifth friend- doing?”

“You know we’re not friends.”

“Doesn’t answer the question,” Riddler tisked.

“It takes two to play chess,” Bruce relented.

“And we have been, haven’t we? Since the beginning. Back and forth before we knew each other.”

“You’re spouting bullshit,” Bruce muttered.

Riddler paused. “Perhaps.”

“Your whole operation is bullshit,” Bruce said, “Thinking you can bring me down.”

“I think I just did,” Riddler tapped the glass.

“I’m still breathing,” Bruce pointed out.

“A bee in the hand, what in the eye?” Riddler snapped, a sudden fury in his eyes.

Bruce squinted at Riddler, trying to process what he had said. “What?”
“Wrong,” Riddler said. Without him having to do anything, Bruce heard a hissing in the chamber.

“I hold your life in my hand,” Riddler said, “But- but if I held a bee in my hand, what would be in my eye?”

There were no logical answers. Pollen was the best guess, and even that was a toss up.

“What in the eye?” Riddler repeated.

Bruce’s thinking was clouded by the colorless, odorless gas seeping into his mouth, constricting his lungs.

A person. Holding a bee. A bee-holder.

“Beauty,” Bruce squeaked, his face a swollen blueberry.

“Wonderful,” Riddler said, blank-faced. The gas slipped away, and Bruce collapsed.

“I have brought you down, Batman,” Riddler knelt down to meet Bruce’s eyeline.

“No. No.”

“I drew you in. Clouded your mind as the gas did. Knew your every move,” Riddler said.

“With Selina,” Bruce sighed.

“You’re catching on.”

Bruce looked down and said nothing.

“Hey. Hey, Bruce?” Riddler chirped.

Bruce stared up with rage in his eyes.

“You sure look awful broken,” Riddler twisted his lips to the side.

Bruce roared. No words. Just an animalistic, primal sound. Riddler didn’t even flinch.

“I’m done here,” Riddler said, walking away from the tube.

Bruce panted heavily.

“One more for the road?” Riddler suggested, “You leave home. Running. You make a right, then turn left twice. Then, you make one last left. And you see two men in masks. Who are they?”

“Árbitro y catcher,” Bane’s thick voice replied. He strode into the room with Mr. Freeze cowering behind him.

“Keep watch, boys,” Riddler said before exiting.

“Where’s Selina?” Bruce demanded once Riddler was long gone.

“Recovering from a breakup,” Bane responded, a charming, sly smile on his face. He had calmed down from the juiced-up rage monster he had been only hours ago. He was dressed in a navy blue suit jacket and blackberry slacks. His greased back black hair was tied neatly into a small ponytail. The side of his head were shaved, and there was no stubble on his face. The only thing blemishing his handsome face was a small scar across the bridge of his large nose.

Mr. Freeze smiled weakly at Bruce upon hearing Bane’s quip.

“I want to see her,” Bruce said, more subdued, “Just talk.”

“No somos suficiente?” Bane asked, feigning disappointment.

“Bane, you seem like a reasonable man,” Bruce tried again, “At least that’s what I gather from your choice of clothing-”

“Gracias.”

“Now, I expect a well-mannered, well-educated man such as yourself-” Bruce started.

“No educación,” Bane corrected, “I built what I have on my own. No help. No schooling. Nadie.”

“Regardless, you are clearly talented and civilized-” Bruce said, beginning to let his aggravation show..

“Listen, rich boy, you know nothing about me. My country. My people. Who we are. What we do. Do not label me.”

“Dammit Bane, just let me talk to Selina!” Bruce finally snapped.

Bane considered this for a moment, “How much would you be willing to pay me?”

“As soon as I get out of here, and I will get out of here, I can wire up to a billion dollars from my personal account over to any account of your choice,” Bruce promised.

Bane drummed his fingers against his chin, “No.”

“More?” Bruce’s eyes grew wide.

“No. No, I wanted to see if you truly believed you could buy your way out of any problem,” Bane admitted, “And I wanted to see your face when I broke the news that you can’t. Riddler pays plenty-”

“No he-” Mr. Freeze started in before catching himself. Bane whipped around and backhanded the tub around his head. Mr. Freeze wobbled, and nearly collapsed.

“He’s not paying you?” Bruce pressed, “You’re in the same boat as Slade Wilson, aren’t you? Then tell me, what does Nashton have on you?”
“Nashton?” Mr. Freeze quivered.

“Riddler.”

“He has nothing on us!” Bane thundered.

“Your home,” Bruce’s eyes narrowed, “You’re obviously very proud of it. Its culture. And Riddler has taken it from you. Sent goons there to keep it under martial law. Keep your people living in fear. Tell me Bane, do you rule over this town?”

“It’s not a town!” Bane said, “It is a nation of its own!”

“A nation? A country you know intimately. An island nation,” Bruce deduced.

Bane squeezed his lips shut to keep himself from anything more.

“Bane, do you rule an island nation? Where is it? You let me out of here, I will liberate your home. Then you can go back. And I can defeat Nashton.”

Bane’s breathing became labored.

“You want to tell me, Bane,” Bruce insisted, “Tell me, Bane. What is the name of your home? What is it? Tell me.”

Bane punched the glass with all the might he could muster. A small crack appeared at the contact point. Bane then reeled back, not wanting to shatter the prison.

“Riddler!” Bane hollered, “Get back in here!”
No one arrived.

“Fine. I’ll get Selina. Anything to get away from you, cabrón,” Bane growled, storming off.

“You,” Bruce said, casting his steely gaze at Mr. Freeze, “What is Bane’s home?”

“I don’t know,” Mr. Freeze squealed, “But- but Riddler has my wife. She’s dead, but I- I think I can save her. She’s in cryo-sleep, I just need to warm her back up.”

“You know I can help her. I have wonderful scientists and engineers working for me. They can save your wife. You just need to let me out. Right here. Right now.”

Mr. Freeze put a hand on his freeze ray. He gripped it with a sudden commitment, and drew it. He aimed it right at the crack in the glass.

“Freeze, we’re not supposed to kill him,” Selina purred, strutting in from where Bane had left.

“Right,” Mr. Freeze said, not breaking eye contact with Bruce.

“So put your damn gun away,” Selina said.

“Selina,” Bruce said.

“Bruce.”

They said nothing for a few moments.

“I thought we had something,” Bruce confessed.

“I didn’t,” Selina shot back.

Bruce clenched his jaw, fighting back the tears that had started to gather. Selina… she was his shot at normal. At happiness. At love.

Did he like Dick? Did he like Jason? Did he like Tim? Did he like Barbara? Did he like Lucius? Did he like Luke? Did he like Oswald?

Sure. But he hadn’t loved since his parents died.

No. No, those were archaic thoughts. He was capable of love. And he felt it. He loved Dick Grayson. Jason Todd. Tim Drake. Damian Wayne. His sons. Even if only one of them was related by blood. And even if one of them was essentially a zombie.

“I don’t care,” Bruce said, suddenly swelling with pride.

“Pardon?” Selina scoffed.

“I don’t care if you felt nothing. I have what I need. The people I need. The people who won’t let me down. The people who will always be there for me.”

“That’s simply not true,” Selina said, “You thought the same thing about your precious Alfred. Where is he now?”

It was then that Bruce realized how long this had been going. This operation. This Dark Triad. Longer than he ever expected. Long enough to know about Bruce’s falling-out with Alfred.

“We know things about you that you wished you didn’t know,” Selina commented, “We’ve seen it all. Those who get close to you die or flee. When I got close to you, I made sure to always be on my toes. I don’t want to be Batman’s next victim.”


- - -


“Coming up on Santa Prisca,” Nightwing reported, observing a small radar screen in the cockpit of the Batplane.

“There is not much information on this place,” Damian said. He wore a black robe with a sword at his side. Nightwing hadn’t been able to force him to leave it behind.

“Look in databases from longer ago,” Nightwing instructed. Damian did so, and found documentation of a prison facility called Peña Duro being built there.

“It is a high security prison. Like Aclatraz,” Damian said.

“Alcatraz,” Nightwing corrected.

“What I said,” Damian spat, “There appears to be no records of the prison for the last nine years.”

“It just completely dropped off the face of the Earth?”

“And from the appearance of things, the other Caribbean islands tried to expunge any record from it. Keep the place quiet.”

“Maintain an illusion of paradise in the tropics,” Nightwing nodded, “You can’t have a high-tech prison in your vacation destination.”

“The prisoners of Peña Duro escaped,” Damian commented.

“So this Peña Duro is more of an Arkham than an Alcatraz,” Nightwing sighed.

“Bane was one of the prisoners, and rose to govern the island,” Damian explained.

“Here we are,” Nightwing said, glancing down over the island. It was a little drop of hell in a sea of heaven. Armed goons patrolled the streets, shooting at any vagrants. People stayed locked inside. There was a stench of death over the island.

“Nightwing and Robin?” Damian asked, looking at Nightwing hopefully.

Nightwing held up a finger. He sorted through a small compartment next to the flight controls, and produced a green domino mask.

“Nightwing and Robin,” Nightwing nodded, “Bruce can go through with the formalities later.”

NEXT TIME ON BATMAN: ETERNAL


“Who’s there?” the enforcer called out, gripping his strange looking gun by the handle.

A wing-ding zipped through the air and wrapped itself around the enforcer’s ankles. A spry figure sprung down from above and kicked the enforcer across the face. The enforcer was out cold.

“Nightwing and Robin,” Nightwing answered.

- - -

Tim smiled at Tam through the glass. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been here. All he knew that Tam was adamant about only staying a week, not the five that they’d been asked to stay.

“Soon,” Tam mouthed as she sighed.

“Soon,” Tim nodded.

- - -

“I am one of five. He who receives me will perish. He who sent me will become king. What am I?”

Bruce looked up, nothing even resembling an answer in his mind.

“I’ll get out.”

“Are you a religious man?” Riddler asked.

“I’ll get you.”

“I’m not looking to get introspective and controversial with this religion topic.”

“You can’t contain me.”

“It’s just- if you were, this answer would come easily.”