Six months had passed since Jacob became the Riddler's protégé. The so-called final test was now upon him. But Jacob knew it wouldn't be easy. One night, after finalizing the last of their operations, he was suddenly sedated. When he woke up, he felt it—something inside his head. A sharp, unnatural weight.
"A bomb," he muttered. He didn't scream. He didn't panic. Instead, he simply looked at Riddler, who stood before him, smiling.
"I knew you'd know," Riddler said with a chuckle. "You were trained well. And from what I taught you, I expected you to expect this."
Jacob calmly nodded. "So what's the final test?"
"For the last six months, I've made the plans. You executed them. Flawlessly. Sometimes even added your touch."
Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Semantics."
Riddler waved a hand. "This time, you're on your own. Your task: outwit Batman. If he catches you, the bomb explodes. Simple, isn't it?"
Jacob's mind spun into gear. The challenge wasn't just about Batman—it was a test of identity, skill, purpose. A trial against the greatest detective the world had known.
"And one more thing," Riddler added. "This time, make some money. As my protégé, it's ridiculous for you to remain poor."
Jacob laughed, despite himself. "So I have to deceive Batman and become rich at the same time."
"Yes. How you earn it is your choice. Any means necessary. If you even think killing me will help you succeed... then kill me."
Jacob understood the weight of the words. This was not a game—it was war.
---
The first target wasn't a bank. That would be amateurish. He needed something refined, targeted, symbolic. He wanted to hit the elites of Gotham. The ones untouched, the ones who pulled the strings.
While working with Riddler, Jacob had long suspected the truth of Batman's identity. Riddler would never confirm it, but the clues were everywhere—technology, presence, access. All paths led to one name: Bruce Wayne.
He didn't just want to rob Wayne Enterprises. He wanted to break through the very security networks Bruce had built as Batman—quietly, elegantly.
So Jacob launched Project G.O.D. (Gotham's Obscured Debt). Through a blend of ransomware attacks, quantum decryption, and high-level insider infiltration, Jacob set up a cascading financial operation. With surgical precision, he stole $500 million from accounts belonging to Gotham's elite—including Bruce Wayne.
When the money vanished, no one even noticed until it was too late.
Jacob wired $20 million to an untraceable shell account linked to Edward Nygma. Riddler smiled as he saw the funds land.
But that was also Riddler's undoing.
Within days, Batman traced the shell back to Riddler. The transfer, the sudden shift in behavior, the mocking game—it was enough.
Riddler was caught, interrogated, and placed in Arkham Asylum. The newspapers ran wild with headlines:
> "$500 Million Stolen! Riddler Behind Bars with Only $20 Million Recovered"
> "Where Did the Other $480 Million Go?"
In the Batcave, Batman stared at the data. Alfred stood beside him, silent. Robin looked concerned.
"Only 20 million," Batman murmured. "Seems like I was dealing with two Riddlers."
Later, in Arkham, Batman confronted Riddler.
"Where's the rest of the money?"
Riddler chuckled darkly. "With my protégé. Even beyond what I expected. No flair and glare. No breadcrumbs. But what can I say?"
He leaned forward with a manic glint in his eye.
"He made his master proud, Batman."