In the dimly lit Batcave, the subtle hum of computers filled the silence. The illuminated screens cast a pale glow over the trio standing near the main terminal. Bruce Wayne—Batman—stood tall in front of the central console, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. To his right stood Alfred, ever composed, hands clasped behind his back. On his left, the second Robin—Tim Drake—watched intently, tapping commands into a side monitor.
"Six months," Batman muttered. "Six months of uncharacteristic behavior from Nygma."
Tim turned to face him. "You mean how he's stopped broadcasting riddles publicly and instead gone underground?"
"Exactly," Batman replied. "No taunts, no public theatrics. Just precision. Targeted heists. Subtle manipulations. And he's been one step ahead of us every time."
Alfred spoke calmly. "Do you believe he's working with someone?"
Batman's gaze sharpened. "Not just working with someone. Training someone."
He brought up a series of encrypted footage recovered from recent raids on Riddler's hideouts. In multiple clips, masked figures coordinated operations too refined for average thugs. One stood out—a lean, agile form. Masked. Quiet. Tactical.
"He has a protégé," Batman said, voice low. "One the goons refer to in hushed tones. Only a few of them even know he exists. And even fewer have seen his face."
Tim narrowed his eyes. "Any clues on who it might be?"
Batman highlighted a still image of the masked figure. A faint green glow of a stylized question mark shimmered across the figure's faceplate.
"I captured one of the lieutenants two nights ago," Batman said. "He slipped and referred to him as 'the next question.' When asked about the mask, he said Riddler told them nothing—just that he'd let the 'question remain unanswered.'"
Alfred raised a brow. "Poetic. Typical of Nygma."
Tim leaned forward. "Wait. If this new Riddler has been running things... it's almost like you're facing two Riddlers."
"Yes," Batman confirmed. "It's like Nygma has cloned his tactics—only this one isn't playing for ego. He's methodical. Patient. Calculating."
He turned and walked slowly to a data wall lined with profiles. Typing commands, he ran predictive analysis. No name came up. The face remained hidden. The trail, cold.
But Batman could feel it—someone out there had matched Nygma's intellect. Someone young. Driven. And unlike Riddler, this new player wasn't leaving breadcrumbs for sport.
"He's the real threat," Batman said quietly. "Not Nygma. Whoever he is... he's learning how to beat me."
A silence settled over the cave.
Then Tim asked, "So what's the move now?"
Batman stared at the screen, the question mark mask flickering.
"We find the question," he said. "And then... we find the answer."
To be continued...