The bat brothers vs the riddler 👀👀 (Apologies if the writing sounds ai ish)
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@jst_ashThe rain hammered against the corrugated steel roof of the abandoned shipping warehouse, a relentless percussion that drowned out the distant wail of Gotham's sirens. Inside, the air was cold, stale, and laced with the metallic tang of rust and old machinery.
Dick Grayson was the first to stir. His head throbbed with a rhythmic, sickening pulse, the distinct aftereffect of a high-grade sedative. He tried to reach for the communications piece in his ear, but his hand collided hard with a smooth, unforgiving surface. CLANG.
The sound echoed, hollow and metallic. Dick blinked against the harsh, fluorescent overhead lights, his vision finally tunneling into focus. He wasn't on a rooftop. He was standing upright, completely enclosed in a thick, cylindrical tube of reinforced ballistic glass. The base of the tube was drilled seamlessly, deep into the concrete floor.
He immediately reached down for his utility belt to pull an explosive charge or a laser cutter. His fingers brushed against empty fabric. His belt was gone. His escrima sticks were gone.
Dick Grayson
His voice was hoarse, a low rasp. "Dick?"
Jason Todd
A muffled, gravelly voice came from his left. Jason was awake, throwing his shoulder violently against his own glass enclosure. The glass didn't even vibrate. Like Dick, Jason's chest rig was completely bare. His holsters were empty; his signature twin pistols were gone. "Don't waste your energy, Todd."
Damian Wayne
Damian's sharp, venomous voice cut through the space. He stood rigid in his own tube, arms crossed, a scowl etched onto his young face. "We've been drugged and stripped. This isn't a random mugging. It's a trap."
Tim Drake, in the tube furthest to the right, was already on his knees, his fingers tracing the base of his enclosure with meticulous precision. His eyes, sharp and analytical, scanned every seam, every weld, every possible weakness. He found none.
Tim Drake
His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of a grim realization. "It's seamless. No hinges, no seams, no access panel. It's a single piece of molded ballistic glass. I've never seen anything like it."
A low, mechanical hum filled the chamber. From the ceiling, four black boxes descended on thin cables, stopping at eye level in front of each tube. A small keypad glowed on each box, a single red LED blinking in a taunting rhythm.
Jason Todd
He slammed a fist against the glass, his voice a snarl. "What the hell is this? Nygma's playing games?"
Damian Wayne
He stared at the keypad, his jaw tight. "A riddle. It's always a riddle with him."
The heavy steel doors at the far end of the chamber let out a long, hydraulic hiss. The sound was slow, deliberate, like a predator savoring its approach. The brothers fell silent, their attention snapping to the widening gap.
A figure stepped through. He was massive—easily seven feet tall, with shoulders as wide as a doorway and a neck that seemed to blend directly into his trapezius muscles. He moved with the heavy, deliberate gait of a man who had crushed bones with his bare hands. In his arms, he carried a limp, unconscious body. Y/n.
The giant crossed the room with mechanical purpose, ignoring the four trapped vigilantes entirely. He stopped before an empty tube—the fifth one—and keyed a sequence into the keypad on its side. The glass slid open with a soft hiss.
He tossed Y/n inside like a sack of grain. The body hit the floor of the tube with a dull thud, and the glass slid shut just as quickly. The giant bent down, picked up the utility belt that had fallen from Y/n's waist, and pocketed it without a second glance.
Jason Todd
His voice was a low growl, barely contained rage. "Hey! Ugly! What did you do to them?"
The giant didn't even look at him. He turned, walked back to the steel doors, and disappeared into the darkness beyond. The doors slid shut with a final, echoing boom.
Silence. The only sound was the rain, still hammering against the roof, and the faint, rhythmic beep of the keypads.
Dick Grayson
He pressed his palms against the glass, staring at Y/n's motionless form in the adjacent tube. "Y/n... wake up. Please wake up."
Damian Wayne
His voice was quieter now, the venom replaced by something colder—fear. "They're breathing. But that's not the problem."
Tim Drake
He looked at the keypad in front of him, then at the empty space in his utility belt where his phone used to be. "The problem is, we have no way to contact anyone. No way to break out. And no idea what Nygma wants us to do."
Jason Todd
He let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow in the confined space. "What does the Riddler always want? To prove he's smarter than us."
A faint groan echoed from Y/n's tube. The body stirred, shifting slightly against the cold glass floor.