Chapter Text
Edward Nygma relished the tension in the room. Each riddle he posed was a melody of intellect, a dance of wits, designed to expose weaknesses and strike fear. Yet, as he stood before the boy—Peter, the boy didn’t cower.
Edward’s curiosity piqued the moment Peter answered his first riddle without hesitation. His confidence was unnerving, but intriguing.
"Interesting," Nygma mused aloud after Peter’s flawless response. "You don’t even flinch. Most adults quake under the pressure, but you—" he leaned closer, "you seem to enjoy this."
Peter smirked, leaning casually against the wall. “It’s fun, like solving crossword puzzles. You got any hard ones, or are we just warming up?”
Edward’s lips curved into a grin. This wasn’t fear—it was defiance, sharp and unapologetic. *Oh, this will be delightful.*
---
From their vantage point, the civilians couldn’t decide what was more shocking: the fact that this boy dared to sass *The Riddler*, or that he was holding his own against him. Whispers broke out among them.
“Who is this kid?” one woman murmured, clutching her bag tightly.
“He’s just a teenager!” another man whispered.
“Someone should record this,” a third voice muttered.
A young man discreetly pulled out his phone and started recording, whispering, “If I don’t, no one’s gonna believe this. This is insane.”
---
Edward adjusted his tie as the chessboard was brought in. He could see the apprehension ripple through the crowd, but Peter’s expression remained unchanged.
“Chess,” Edward said with a flourish. “But not just any chess. Nine-dimensional chess. Still feeling confident, boy?”
Peter tilted his head, his smirk growing. “Yeah, I’m good. Let’s play.”
Edward’s mind raced as they began. He prided himself on his genius, but Peter’s movements were sharp and unpredictable. For every trap Edward laid, Peter evaded with ease, countering with strategies Edward hadn’t anticipated.
---
The man with the phone muttered, “Holy crap, he’s actually winning.”
The woman next to him shook her head. “This can’t be real. A *kid* beating the Riddler?”
“I think he’s enjoying himself,” another whispered, pointing at Peter’s confident posture.
---
As the games went on, Edward found himself both frustrated and exhilarated. He wasn’t accustomed to losing, but Peter’s wit was electrifying.
“You’re an enigma, Peter,” Edward admitted during a break between games. “A riddle in yourself. What’s your story?”
Peter shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just a guy who likes to solve problems. And right now, you’re my problem.”
Edward chuckled, genuinely amused. “I like you, boy. You’ve got spirit. If only you’d consider a career in villainy—”
“Hard pass,” Peter interrupted, making Edward laugh harder than he had in years.
---
The tension was palpable during the last game. Edward was determined to win, but Peter’s moves were relentless.
When Peter declared checkmate, the room fell silent. Edward stared at the board, his mind racing to find a mistake. There was none.
“Well,” Edward said, breaking the silence with a slow clap. “I must admit, you’ve bested me. A rare feat. I’ll keep my word.” He gestured to his guards. “Release the rest.”
---
The civilians couldn’t believe it. The kid had *actually* beaten the Riddler. The man recording whispered, “This is going viral. This kid’s a legend.”
---
As Peter and Billy walked away, Edward couldn’t help but smile, despite his bruised ego. “Until we meet again, Peter,” he murmured.
Just as the door closed behind them, a deafening crash echoed through the warehouse.
Edward sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. “And here come the bats,” he muttered, his voice laced with annoyance.
Peter paused at the sound, looking over his shoulder with a knowing smile. Edward caught his eye, and for a brief moment, they shared a look of mutual understanding.
The warehouse echoed with the sound of heavy boots as the bats entered, their figures cutting through the dim light like shadows of justice. Their eyes scanned the scene: Riddler, calmly sitting with his hands cuffed; his guards subdued and disarmed. And then, their gazes landed on *him*.
Peter, standing relaxed, arms crossed, with a small boy—clearly nervous—half-hidden behind him.
“Peter?” Batman’s voice was a low growl, filled with suspicion.
“Hey, Batman,” Peter greeted casually, waving a hand like he was meeting an old friend on the street.
---
Robin stepped forward, glaring at Peter. “Why are *you* here? And why is there a kid hiding behind you?”
Peter raised a brow, glancing back at Billy. “Oh, you mean *him*? That’s my little brother.”
The bats froze. The words hung in the air like a bombshell.
“Since when do you have a *brother*?” Red Robin asked incredulously.
Billy peeked out from behind Peter, his wide eyes darting nervously between the bats. He didn’t say a word, gripping Peter’s hoodie tightly.
---
Edward Nygma chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, bats, always so dramatic. You’re focusing on the wrong details.” He gestured toward Peter. “This boy—no, *this genius*—has already solved every riddle I threw at him and freed all the hostages. By the time you showed up, there was no one left to save except me and my boys.”
The bats turned sharply to Peter.
“Is that true?” Batman demanded.
Peter shrugged. “Yeah. It wasn’t that hard.”
The bats looked at eachother cold sweat forming. What is wrong with this kid they all thought at the same time.
---
Edward grinned, his eyes gleaming with delight. “The real question, dear bats, is why this boy—who outsmarted me at every turn—hasn’t joined me yet. Tell me, Peter, are you sure you wouldn’t consider a career in villainy? Or perhaps a friendly game of chess now and then?”
Peter laughed, his tone light but firm. “Nah, I’m good. I’ve got enough on my plate without adding ‘villainy’ to the list.”
The Riddler sighed dramatically. “What a shame. But if you won’t join me, at least promise to visit. Bring your little brother. We can have a proper rematch—with puzzles, of course.”
The bats looked ready to protest, but Peter spoke up first. “Sure. I’ll visit tomorrow. It sounds fun.”
“*Peter,*” Red Robin hissed.
“What?” Peter asked, feigning innocence. “He’s in cuffs, the police are coming, and he’ll be locked up in Arkham. What’s the harm in a game?”
---
As the sound of approaching sirens filled the air, the bats exchanged glances.
- Robin was glaring daggers at Peter, both confused and suspicious. *Why does he seem so calm around Riddler? And who is this kid?*
- Red Robin was furiously trying to piece together the situation. *Did Peter just make a deal with Riddler? And since when does he have a brother?*
- Batman’s mind was racing, his calculating gaze moving between Peter, Billy, and the Riddler. *This boy is more than he seems. But why is he involving himself with Gotham’s villains?*
---
As the police arrived, the Riddler was escorted out, still chuckling to himself. He called over his shoulder, “Don’t forget, Peter! Tomorrow! And bring your brother!”
Peter gave him a casual thumbs-up, earning himself a series of exasperated looks from the bats.
Robin crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at Billy. “Who *is* he?”
“My brother,” Peter said simply, as if that explained everything.
Billy fidgeted under their scrutiny but stayed silent.
“Since when?” Red Robin pressed.
Peter grinned. “Since yesterday.”
The bats were left staring as Peter guided Billy toward the exit, whistling a cheerful tune.
---
Robin turned to Batman, his face a mixture of frustration and disbelief. “This kid is going to drive me insane.”
Red Robin sighed. “I need to run a full background check on him *again*. He’s hiding *way* more than he’s letting on.”
Batman said nothing, his expression unreadable. But deep down, one thought lingered: *Who exactly is Peter Parker?* He has so many questions but no answers. Batman sighs, maybe Alfred is right. I really need some time off. He looks at Red Robin who hasn't slept for 3 days. I'm taking him with me. Maybe I should borrow one of those sleeping tranquilizers and finally get some rest. I'm too tired for this. Why are children like this….
Therapy doesn't sound so bad, maybe i should give it a try...