soften the blow, but he wasn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet. “No, Robin. All I want to do is help people.”
Even if he wasn’t cut out to be a super hero, he knew he’d been given these powers for a reason. One way or another, he was going to find out what they were for ... or die trying.
30 AND COUNTING.
' GOTHAM CITY.
Jin earsplitting explosion greeted Mary Marvel’s return to the mortal plane. Descending from the night sky, she saw flames and smoke erupting from the uptown branch of the Gotham National Bank. The blistering heat from the fire could be felt even high above the city. Thick black smoke filled her nostrils. A glance at a clock tower informed her that it was nearly three in the morning. Thank goodness, she thought. At this hour, it was unlikely that anyone had been inside the bank when it blew up. Probably no need to search for casualties.
Sirens heralded the approach of police cars and fire trucks. Assuming that the authorities could cope with the blaze on their own, Mary scanned the scene from the air, looking for some clue as to the origin of the explosion. Foul play seemed like a safe bet; banks seldom exploded on their own, especially in Gotham City.
She wasn’t the only one taking in the show. Her eyes lit up as she spied a lanky figure watching the fireworks from the rooftop of a five-story building across the street from the burning bank. Embossed purple question marks, sewn into the fabric of a dapper green suit, tie, and bowler hat, immediately identified the onlooker as Batman’s longtime nemesis Edward Nigma, aka the Riddler. He lowered a pair of high-powered binoculars. A purple domino mask failed to conceal his avid interest in the spectacular conflagration. Intent upon the fire, he appeared unaware of the black-clad super heroine spying on him from above.
“Well, well!” She chuckled to get his attention. “What have we here?” After her infuriating reunion with Billy at the Rock of Eternity, she welcomed the opportunity to take out her frustration on a deserving target. “Explosions, alarms, and one big-name Gotham bad guy just begging for an ass-kicking!”
To her slight disappointment, the Riddler appeared unruffled by her arrival. “I would agree with your assessment, young lady,” he said glibly, while brazenly attempting to look up her skirt, “although it appears I should make you aware of certain facts before you— hey!"
Swooping down from the sky, she nabbed him in midsentence. His bowler hat went flying, exposing receding brown hair, as she grabbed on to his collar and plucked him off the rooftop. Startled, he dropped his binoculars, which tumbled downward while she carried him high up into the air, hundreds of feet above his former perch. The lost spy-glasses crashed loudly onto the roof below.
“Before you jump to conclusions and turn me into street pizza, my dear,” he said calmly, despite the fact that he was currently dangling from a great height, “although I sincerely hope that such a virtuous Girl Scout as yourself would never do such a thing, I must inform you that, as a duly licensed private investigator, I don’t commit crimes any longer. I solve them.”
“What are you saying?” Mary asked, irked by his persistently chipper attitude. ‘'That you’ve reformed!” She raised a skeptical eyebrow. That’s what Black Adam said too. Before he pounded me into a coma.
The Riddler stuck to his story. “Ask Batman if you don’t believe me.”
“I don’t,” she said confidently. “I saw you. You were at the crime scene before the police.” She gave him a good shaking. “Riddle your way out of that one!”
“It’s no mystery,” he insisted. “Like you, I heard the explosion and came to investigate.” Twisting in her grasp, he pointed down at the sidewalk far below. “Look! See that muddy trail leading away from the bank? It will most assuredly lead us to whoever’s really behind this outrage.”
Mary descended to the
Even if he wasn’t cut out to be a super hero, he knew he’d been given these powers for a reason. One way or another, he was going to find out what they were for ... or die trying.
30 AND COUNTING.
' GOTHAM CITY.
Jin earsplitting explosion greeted Mary Marvel’s return to the mortal plane. Descending from the night sky, she saw flames and smoke erupting from the uptown branch of the Gotham National Bank. The blistering heat from the fire could be felt even high above the city. Thick black smoke filled her nostrils. A glance at a clock tower informed her that it was nearly three in the morning. Thank goodness, she thought. At this hour, it was unlikely that anyone had been inside the bank when it blew up. Probably no need to search for casualties.
Sirens heralded the approach of police cars and fire trucks. Assuming that the authorities could cope with the blaze on their own, Mary scanned the scene from the air, looking for some clue as to the origin of the explosion. Foul play seemed like a safe bet; banks seldom exploded on their own, especially in Gotham City.
She wasn’t the only one taking in the show. Her eyes lit up as she spied a lanky figure watching the fireworks from the rooftop of a five-story building across the street from the burning bank. Embossed purple question marks, sewn into the fabric of a dapper green suit, tie, and bowler hat, immediately identified the onlooker as Batman’s longtime nemesis Edward Nigma, aka the Riddler. He lowered a pair of high-powered binoculars. A purple domino mask failed to conceal his avid interest in the spectacular conflagration. Intent upon the fire, he appeared unaware of the black-clad super heroine spying on him from above.
“Well, well!” She chuckled to get his attention. “What have we here?” After her infuriating reunion with Billy at the Rock of Eternity, she welcomed the opportunity to take out her frustration on a deserving target. “Explosions, alarms, and one big-name Gotham bad guy just begging for an ass-kicking!”
To her slight disappointment, the Riddler appeared unruffled by her arrival. “I would agree with your assessment, young lady,” he said glibly, while brazenly attempting to look up her skirt, “although it appears I should make you aware of certain facts before you— hey!"
Swooping down from the sky, she nabbed him in midsentence. His bowler hat went flying, exposing receding brown hair, as she grabbed on to his collar and plucked him off the rooftop. Startled, he dropped his binoculars, which tumbled downward while she carried him high up into the air, hundreds of feet above his former perch. The lost spy-glasses crashed loudly onto the roof below.
“Before you jump to conclusions and turn me into street pizza, my dear,” he said calmly, despite the fact that he was currently dangling from a great height, “although I sincerely hope that such a virtuous Girl Scout as yourself would never do such a thing, I must inform you that, as a duly licensed private investigator, I don’t commit crimes any longer. I solve them.”
“What are you saying?” Mary asked, irked by his persistently chipper attitude. ‘'That you’ve reformed!” She raised a skeptical eyebrow. That’s what Black Adam said too. Before he pounded me into a coma.
The Riddler stuck to his story. “Ask Batman if you don’t believe me.”
“I don’t,” she said confidently. “I saw you. You were at the crime scene before the police.” She gave him a good shaking. “Riddle your way out of that one!”
“It’s no mystery,” he insisted. “Like you, I heard the explosion and came to investigate.” Twisting in her grasp, he pointed down at the sidewalk far below. “Look! See that muddy trail leading away from the bank? It will most assuredly lead us to whoever’s really behind this outrage.”
Mary descended to the
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