Neknoh
2010-07-26, 02:50 PM
Chapter 1: Riddle me this and riddle me that
”Who’s afraid of the big, bad, bat?”
The headline of the Gotham Post was nothing new, nothing shocking, the fear, the speculation, they had all grown rampant over the past few weeks. Ever since the murder of Dent, the people of Gotham had rallied together against this, vigilante, the madman, the villain that is Batman, who took away the white knight of Gotham city, that burning light that stood for all that was good and just. The hunt was on, the paranoia grew by the hour, and near every shadow was phoned in as a sighting of the Bat.
An old, black phone rang in a smoky office, the daily newspaper lay poorly folded on an overburdened desk. Half closed shutters in the windows let in only a miniscule, orange light, the smoggy glow of the Gotham sunset. The phone rang again, its sharp bell nearly screeching in the silence, ultimately prompting a strained groan and a tired arm with a folded up shirtsleeve to both emerge from a worn down leather chair. “Q and A Investigations, Edward speaking.” The lone person in the smoky room mumbled into the phone, his head hurt, a halfly emptied out whiskey bottle on the table in front of him stood open, only old, already solved cases piled up high next to it told of no new business to speak of. “Mister Nygma,” a voice in the other end of the phone crackled, “This is Nathan Lee at the Gotham Police Department, and we’ve got a job for you.” Edward chuckled in his office, “A job? For me?” he was amused, very muchly so infact, “And what work could you possibly have for a useless, small time private investigator like me that the greath Gotham policeforce cannot handle? A missing kitten?” you could almost hear the smile at the other end of the phone, or perhaps it was a smug smirk, “No mister Nygma, a missing bat.”
Edward snapped out of his slouch at once, however, the wheels of the old chair spun out underneath him and he promptly plummeted to the floor with a crash, the phone hanging limply off its cord from the edge of the table. His body aching, Edward reached for the phone where it swayed slowly from side to side, “Could you take that again officer Lee?” he asked, “Certainly,” Lee answered, “We need your help to find the Batman. You’ll receive a standard pay of a consultant and you’ll have full access to a team of investigators, along with any and all data that you may require. Do we have an agreement mister Nygma?”, Edward smiled on his end, his office, even in this fading sunset, seemed just a bit brighter, a new case, money, and a challenge for once, “Yes…. I think we do.” After Edward hung up, he climbed up off the floor, wheeling the chair back behind the desk and sitting down, the leather chair creaking as he leaned back and put his feet on the table. Edward scooped up a small, soft, rubber ball from his pocket, it had an off-green colour with a black questionmark on it, and he started throwing it against the wall, catching it as it bounced back, and he started to think.
”Who’s afraid of the big, bad, bat?”
The headline of the Gotham Post was nothing new, nothing shocking, the fear, the speculation, they had all grown rampant over the past few weeks. Ever since the murder of Dent, the people of Gotham had rallied together against this, vigilante, the madman, the villain that is Batman, who took away the white knight of Gotham city, that burning light that stood for all that was good and just. The hunt was on, the paranoia grew by the hour, and near every shadow was phoned in as a sighting of the Bat.
An old, black phone rang in a smoky office, the daily newspaper lay poorly folded on an overburdened desk. Half closed shutters in the windows let in only a miniscule, orange light, the smoggy glow of the Gotham sunset. The phone rang again, its sharp bell nearly screeching in the silence, ultimately prompting a strained groan and a tired arm with a folded up shirtsleeve to both emerge from a worn down leather chair. “Q and A Investigations, Edward speaking.” The lone person in the smoky room mumbled into the phone, his head hurt, a halfly emptied out whiskey bottle on the table in front of him stood open, only old, already solved cases piled up high next to it told of no new business to speak of. “Mister Nygma,” a voice in the other end of the phone crackled, “This is Nathan Lee at the Gotham Police Department, and we’ve got a job for you.” Edward chuckled in his office, “A job? For me?” he was amused, very muchly so infact, “And what work could you possibly have for a useless, small time private investigator like me that the greath Gotham policeforce cannot handle? A missing kitten?” you could almost hear the smile at the other end of the phone, or perhaps it was a smug smirk, “No mister Nygma, a missing bat.”
Edward snapped out of his slouch at once, however, the wheels of the old chair spun out underneath him and he promptly plummeted to the floor with a crash, the phone hanging limply off its cord from the edge of the table. His body aching, Edward reached for the phone where it swayed slowly from side to side, “Could you take that again officer Lee?” he asked, “Certainly,” Lee answered, “We need your help to find the Batman. You’ll receive a standard pay of a consultant and you’ll have full access to a team of investigators, along with any and all data that you may require. Do we have an agreement mister Nygma?”, Edward smiled on his end, his office, even in this fading sunset, seemed just a bit brighter, a new case, money, and a challenge for once, “Yes…. I think we do.” After Edward hung up, he climbed up off the floor, wheeling the chair back behind the desk and sitting down, the leather chair creaking as he leaned back and put his feet on the table. Edward scooped up a small, soft, rubber ball from his pocket, it had an off-green colour with a black questionmark on it, and he started throwing it against the wall, catching it as it bounced back, and he started to think.