2012-10-20 Lighthouses and Humiliation

The message appeared in the personal section of the Gotham Gazette:
'CW. A man decides to quit his job, so he turns off the lights and walks out of the room. Two hundred people die. Why? Expect your answer 3 PM Saturday. TR.'
The answer, 'TR' thinks, is obvious. And so here he is, Saturday, just before three o'clock, a warm enough day, but gray and cloudy and starting to rain. Clad in his brightest green and violet, a bowler perched atop his head, the Riddler has secreted himself in Cape Carmine Lighthouse, in the spotlight room, staring out over the bay. It's daytime, and the weather is not so horrible that the light is needed, but his cane is settled in such a way that, should the light be started, it will send the shadow of that question mark out over the water.
The ad, cryptic as it is, is figured out once Selina sees it, the message almost missed as she rarely reads the personals unless instructed to by an employer. Thankfully today was one of those days where curiosity got the better of her, prompting her to take a gander at all the proclamations of love and other such messages.
The one meant for her puts ice in her blood once she is able to read between the lines, the threat - implied or otherwise - taken seriously by her. And while she's not about to turn the other way when she might be able to help she is not exactly sure how to go about this. Catwoman is a creature of the night, after all, and the fact that she is being called out during the day means this entire thing will require a bit of creative thinking on her part.
After a bit it dawns on her what to do and a spare costume, whip and everything else is packed into a bag and a cab is called for. Her drop off point should put here where no one will be, giving her the privacy needed to change without being caught, at the same time it should give her time to get to the light house.
Just a few minutes before 3 and she finally arrives, still limping, the trip up the stairs to the light room causing her leg to burn. But the pain will be worth it if it means she can save all those people. "Riddler," she calls out once she's in the small room, her eyes narrowed behind her goggles. Someone, to put it bluntly, is pissed.
Threat? There was no threat -- just a request to meet. Really, Riddler is hardly one to extend threats against the likes of Catwoman -- and most of his threats, frankly, are empty. The man is no fighter. He's merely... well, he's a pain in the ass, is what he is, and mostly to Batman.
Though, as he considers the anger in Catwoman's eyes and voice, Nigma must concede that perhaps a little 'Saw you across Cafe Square at the mall, meet me at the lighthouse' might have gone over better.
"Dear Catwoman," he says, eyes widening slightly behind his domino mask. "I do apologize -- I'd no idea you'd been injured. I'd have asked to meet you someplace with fewer stairs." He moves to push a folding chair into place so she may sit. "Really, if we just exchanged cell phone numbers this whole charade would be unnecessary."
The show of concern and resulting manners throws Catwoman whose anger deflates immediately, the rush of ire now nothing more than a mere simmer. Nigma is a very lucky man, too. She's not a pot anyone wants to have boil over on them. "What do you want," she asks while looking about the room, a quick glance to make sure nothing's rigged to blow up. No, that isn't exactly his MO, just like carrying out acts of violence isn't, but she doesn't trust the man.
"What do you mean..." Blinking, she falls silent for a second or five outside of a grunt of pain when she sits, her one leg carefully moved as she does. "... you speak in riddles," she mutters, something that really doesn't need to be said. He is called The Ridder, after all. "Explain yourself."
"I just wanted to meet with you and see if you'd be amenable to an... association," replies the Riddler. He has returned to leaning against the rails, close enough for conversation, distant enough so as not to intrude on her personal space. "We have a common thorn in our sides, after all, but unlike many others of our alignment, we do not see this as a reason to brandish a weed whacker and destroy the rose bush." He pauses a moment, considering. "You know, I believe if I ever compared Batman to a rose bush in Ivy's presence she'd kill me.
"But more seriously, I believe you consider Batman a challenge, and as for myself... my entire purpose is to prove myself his intellectual superior." The quirk of his lips suggests he knows this is easier said than done. "But I don't think either of us would shed a tear should we see egg on his face."
Ah. Now the pieces are starting to fall into place now that Nigma's talking, giving her the insight she needs to start figuring out what's on his mind. "You know..." She leans in closer herself, sitting forward with forearms upon her knees, her eyes held to his face. "I don't know if I think of Batman in that way anymore." Yes, he still annoys her at times when he gets her to question herself and what she does, but she's also come to respect the man under the cowl at the same time she's come to care for him. "Tell me what's on your mind," she asks then, too curious to let it slide, the curiosity too strong to ignore. At the very least, perhaps she can coax answers out of Edward and warn Bruce that the man's up to something.
The fact is, the Riddler -does- have respect for Batman. But he's got a certain pathological need to prove himself the better in some form. "I haven't decided yet," he admits. "Rather, I felt that since you and I find ourselves on the same side of the law, we might manage to find some common ground -- some trinket for your collection, and a little thumbing of our noses as the bat." Respects the Bat -- but that doesn't mean he acts respectful toward him. "You know, the other day I was actually thinking of bringing on a few mini-Riddlers to prove that I'm a better father figure? I'm sure Riddler Jr. would brush his teeth more thoroughly than Robin." Pause. "Any of the Robins."
Now Riddler's pushing buttons. Buttons that pique Selina's curiosity further. No, it isn't the thought of the nose thumbing that has her attention. It's the idea of stealing something and the challenge doing so would pose that gets her interested. Not that she has a chance to say so as he goes on, mentioning what else he had thought upon. "You'd bring someone in under your wing just to prove yourself better," she says with a smirk, the idea of little Riddler-like kids running around a tiny bit amusing. "I wouldn't recommend that," she adds eventually, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. "Robin's every much as tough as Batman is and I don't think you're the type who'd want to get children injured."
"And Batman isn't the type who'd want to injure them," points out Riddler. "Nor Robin, but I've more or less abdicated that idea. Someday I may found a Riddler family, but it would require finding persons as fascinated by the idea of stumping our adversaries as I am." He steeples his fingers upon his chest, looking skyward for a moment before he returns his gaze to Catwoman's. "No, in truth I imagine that there is something that you could not resist trying to take for yourself. All I ask, Catwoman, is that you allow me to help you plan that heist -- and apply my usual style."
Selina's never been overtly trusting and this is doing nothing to help, something about Edward's proposal getting her wary. "Let me think on it," she eventually says with a cautious note to her voice. "It isn't something I can just jump into, after all." She does have a reputation of playing the game smart and rarely does she leap into things without knowing what she's getting herself into. "If I find that this will not do... too much damage then we can discuss terms and plans. But I will not do it if I feel anyone will get hurt."
Riddler smiles wryly. "I don't like hurting people," he says. "Really, I'm a pacifist. The person who gets hurt the most when I plot against the Bat tends to be me." He raises a hand, extending three fingers. "On my oath as a former Boy Scout, I promise to give you time to think about it -- and harass Batman on my own in the meantime. And also to buy that new Ben and Jerry's Key Lime Pie flavor every time I go to the grocery store, because really, that stuff is just fantastic."
"As long as that remains the case," Selina grumbles while rising to her feet. What she means is difficult to figure out, maybe. Could mean that he better continue to not hurt innocent people but, if one were to look at it from a different angle, she could very easily mean he better keep on getting hurt by Batman. She's not going to clarify, however. A phone number for a disposable phone's given before she makes to hobble back down the stairs, the meeting concluded in her mind.
"Have a nice evening, Catwoman. Keep that foot up -- and should you need anything, please, don't hesitate to call." He's quick to text his own number to her disposable -- his own phone is one of many, and certainly disposable as well, but it's a way to reach him for now. He allows her to depart without further comment, but grinning to himself. It is the start of a plan.
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