5261/Radio Nygma

Radio Nygma
Date of Scene:	29 August 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Riddler, Batwoman

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Riddler has posed:
Edward Nygma had indulged in a bit of light drinking, after coming off his medication, talked to an interesting member of the Gotham City criminal community, then set off to planning and met the proper cohort to aid in his scheme.

The draw was as followed:

Batwoman was not a detective, yet she was within Gotham City's vigilante community, which Batman had personally molded in his image as an equilibrium against Gotham City's corruption, the same such corruption that had created Nygma in the first place. Batwoman was, therefore, a threat to equilibrium, unless Nygma could check her, to solve the equation in the proper way to make sure she listened to Riddler and the other super villains, to reform the city and prevent themselves in the future, via Batman. Each Gothamite villain had rules; Joker, for example, was the only one that could kill God, Batman. He was the Rabbi. Nygma was the one in charge of the games, the systems. He was the Maestro. Batwoman had violated his rules, by using what Riddler deduced to be military-level electronics intelligence.

Edward Nygma was once Defense Department material, and he was damned good. He had placed himself on the case, to figure out where Batwoman was getting her intelligence from, to see who she worked for. What Riddler was worried about was Suicide Squad. That meant that Gotham City was no longer run by God and his angels - it had been invaded by Rome and the Pantheon.

Riddler stood atop a roof, with a headset on, beside a transmitter array that looked futuristic to say the least. It was a Speed Force radio antenna, designed to cause a massive flash of sub-frequency vibrations, to blind every communications tower in the city. It would be easy to spot, once it went off, as the center of attention. Riddler intended on it. He had countermeasures, once he had blinded Batwoman's eyes, and drawn her to him.

Around the city, Riddler having arranged it through word of mouth and careful organization, were his gangmembers, with the uplinks, already placed at satellite towers, used by telecommunications.

Everyone was listening to an Oldies radio station. Once Riddler's request, 'Unchained Melody', by the Righteous Brothers, began to play, Riddler flipped the antenna on.

There was a flash, and every radio in the city died, as his goons quickly went around setting up the hacker uplink beacons to the satellite towers, working rapidly and efficiently, without fear.

Riddler, meanwhile, stood beside the tower, his trick cane in hand, outfitted with a minor arsenal.

Batwoman has posed:
You know it's been a quiet night when there's nothing for Batwoman to do. So she's sitting on a rooftop, legs crossed, as she muses over what she knows so far about active, more threatening criminals. In particular the Riddler, who she can't help but want to fire a few rounds through his legs. Surely not enough to kill him, but make him suffer a little bit. "Oracle. I need to know more about this Darius Quan. It's a play on words - Quandry, but I don't like the idea of being fed a clue by a clue by a clue." And then... A flash of light, and midway through a response, Oracle is cut off, and a flash of light in the distance. Two and two might be put together, but the most important thing? There's something unusual afoot. Which means that there's something to do. "Oracle?" No response. Hmn.

Kate leaps from the building, catching herself on the fire escape, a window ledge, and then a dumpster, before falling astride a monstrous, two wheeled, black contraption. No need for silence, either, the oversized motorcycle roars into life. The flared guards open, revealing an arsenal that she decides not to touch for now, tapping them closed before she twists the throttle and pulls out into the streets.

Large enough and customised enough to easily go toe to toe with the cars, it's agile enough to weave through traffic at high speeds, that red hair whipping behind her as she makes her way towards the source of the flash. It's less than a minute before she's heard, well before she's seen. The sound of a hungry engine devouring it's fuel approaching the building with it's distinctive tower, and the loud roar of the bike suddenly stops, replaced by the sound of the vehicle swapping to electric and speeding away - And a moment later, a creature of black and red glides up, cape hooked to her wrists, a delicate spin cancelling her momentum as she lands upon the roof.

Because you don't need subtly. Not when you have skill. And the Riddler doesn't quite know exactly how unkind Kate can be. Kate looks at the Riddler, and his tower, and says nothing. For now.

Riddler has posed:
Riddler turns about to face Batwoman, as the antenna jolts to a cool, silent hum, the bright flare of light from it fading. Nygma smiles, and reaches to his head with his right hand, tipping his bowler in greeting.

"Hello, Batwoman," he greets cheerily. "I'm happy you've decided to join me. Welcome to the roof of the Roberts Lounge. Beneath me are a number of dinner guests, brought here from Massachusetts for a District Attorney Convention. The convention has already finished, and downstairs are a group of the brightest, most prestigious junior attorneys and police scientists of this year's graduating class of municipal New England's legal division."

He turns his back on Batwoman, walking away from the antenna. "And I know you're not going to attack me, because I just told you that a single wall of this building is wired with plastic explosive, meaning that a quarter of them will be exposed to concrete shrapnel."

He stops. "I told you, before I told you? That can't be right. What does that mean, Batwoman?" he asks cheerily, tone dripping with venom.

Batwoman has posed:
Batwoman removes her rifle as soon as the Riddler begins to speak, and it's extended to it's full length, safety off and barrel pointed at him as he points out where they are in turn. "So you're saying that I'll need to put a round between your eyes instead of your calf?" The woman suggests, her voice rich, "Denying me the joy of both collar and crow. How cruel." The weapon is placed back at her side, and the momentary flash of frustration might reveal how she's feeling about the situation.

"Unfortunately, I gave you the terms under which I would play your games. You've chosen to ignore a ladies request, and now you expect her to indulge your games on your terms... And I'm afraid I'm not going to promise that." Batwoman remains where she is, "So it means I play along. And as soon as I see an opportunity to end it prematurely, I do."

A pause follows. And then an ultimately final sentence. "And I actively consider whether or not it's safe to bring you in alive, and at what cost I'm willing to make that happen."

Riddler has posed:
"An ironic threat."

Riddler spins about, noting the rifle and Batwoman's ire. "Normally, I'd say, 'riddle me this', with Batman, or any of his typical doves, since they are rather fond of pretending to be Sherlock Holmes. I found that out after my first arrest. You, however, are not Scotland Yard. Hardly a bobby. I think I know what you are, but if I told you, you'd hide, wouldn't you?" He lowers his bowler over his masked eye. "Or would you?"

"You have a hostage situation. You do not know the veracity of my claims, beyond my reputation."

He leans his cane out. "Positive: You require intelligence. Negative: I have the intelligence."

"Your solution, to my present classification, is a tango." He smiles coyly, showing his knowledge of the military with that statement. "Is that your question?"

By now, the city's radio bandwiths are crackling back to life.

Batwoman has posed:
"They do." Kate responds simply, "I am not here to be a detective. I do not do what I do to solve crime. I do what I do for the benefit of people. For those who are taken advantage of on a dark night. For those who are about to make choices they will regret forever. For those who cannot defend themselves." Kate remains a safe distance away, for now. "Most of them want to understand. Some of us already do. So tell me, Mister Nygma, what is it you want to show me this time, that you would go through all this." She gestures.

"And as much as I'd like to verify downstairs, I don't know if I need to. You've a rich history of these kinds of antics, so it might be safer to assume you're telling the truth." Her cowl begins to speak, and she reached up to silence it almost immediately. "I might not be a detective. And I can't see, no matter how many times I read your file, why I am over here, and you are over there."

Riddler has posed:
The side of Riddler's mouth slides downwards, as he narrows his eyes.

"Tell me, Batwoman, have you ever been fired for being too good at your job? Has a psychological aspect, that you have, ever been ruled too dangerous, as if we're all computers and only those with power have choice?"

He looks at Batwoman for a cold, hard moment, before he reaches into his pocket, his face softening, as he withdraws a wired radio device, looking to be a compact satellite phone, except with an electronic link port on one end, and a single button.

"I sense you have, Batwoman. How deeply do you see into your society? You've been bred for sport, trained for battle, and taught for justice. All three of those are working against you for the mystery that puts you over there. I know why I'm here."

There's a sad sound in his voice, as he says, "It's why you're over there."

He chucks the device up in the air, a high arc, past Batwoman, before he jaunts away towards the end of the roof.

"That'll deactivate the explosives downstairs!"

Apparently they're already counting down to explode.

Batwoman has posed:
Batwoman slowly shakes her head for a moment, although her eyes follow the device. "I've been fired for worse reasons. And I chose to do my job my way, even when they said I could not. That I'd still do what I knew I could, what I felt was my destiny. So, Riddle me this. How is it that the pain and suffering that makes vigilantes, makes villains?" And then the device is airborne, and the Riddler is making his escape. And unfortunately, again, he's not given her a real choice. She taps her cowl as she goes after the remote.

"Oracle. Paint my location, target off the south side. Track him and do not let him escape." Hi, Oracle. Sorry we got cut off there.

Riddler has posed:
Riddler can only respond with a shout, as he jumps up to the ledge at the end of the three story building, dangling on a foot and turning around to face her.

"We're the same, except we're afraid to die, and you're afraid of final judgement!"

He falls backwards, cane in hand, as he laughs.

He lands on a firefighter's trampoline, moments later, stretched out beneath the roof and held in place by a quartet of his gang. They're all dressed in black dockworker's garments, with green caps and black eyemasks. His demands, naturally.

They ditch the firefighter's trampoline, and the five of them all go running down the street, towards a dump truck.

Meanwhile, the gangmembers around the rest of the city are all far away from the telecommunications towers by now, having returned to the various bases of operation that Edward Nygma has designated as rallypoints with cartography and narrowed mathematical necessity.

Batwoman has posed:
Kate doesn't believe in any of that, But she grabs the device, studying it as she makes her way into the building. One thing lingers in her mind as her cowl flickers information on the signal from the strange device.

The Riddle managed to prove nothing. Say nothing. Which is extremely unusual. So whatever all of this was in aid of, she doesn't really know yet.

Riddler has posed:
Riddler and his four friends jump onto the back of the dump truck, riding it by hanging off it, and it goes trundling off down the street, driven by another cohort, this one dressed as a standard sanitation worker.

As Oracle tracks them, the encrypted signals flicker past the spy datalinks that Riddler's had planted at all the cellphone and communications towards while the radio broadbands were interrupted, the datalinks reporting to a central mainframe computer installed in the back of a computer store in a wealthy part of Gotham City. One of Edward Nygma's cohorts, a man in a Joe Strummer t-shirt, watches the screens as information cycles past on the screens, being recorded in various file dumps for Riddler's later analysis. The little hive is full of electronics equipment and radio telecommunications devices, plus a vending machine that Riddler had stolen for novelty.

The vending machine is outfitted with every M&M flavor possible, including many from overseas.

Riddler has posed:
The dump truck takes merry turns around Gotham City, each one of Riddler's men hopping off the back of the truck, one by one, every few minutes. Finally, it's just the Riddler, and as the dump truck goes through Chinatown, he hops off and disappears into the tight alleyways inside Gotham's Asian quarter. He steps into an underworld restaurant frequented by gangsters after a movement through a meat warehouse, coming out on the other end and into a Polynesian lounge.

Batwoman has posed:
Kate is left to go through the building, room by room, until she can find and defuse the explosives. Chatter from her cowl indicates that they have lost the dump truck, but were tracking some unusual signatures. After she's done here, she's probably going to descend into the underworld and punch some people until they start talking. Fun fun fun.