"Oh, sorry. I lost my composure for a moment."
Realizing his outburst had been inappropriate, the Riddler straightened his green suit with quick, precise tugs, smoothed his tie, and offered an apology with the polished courtesy of a well-dressed gentleman attending high tea.
But no matter how refined he appeared — the question-mark cane resting elegantly against his shoulder, the smile returning to something almost charming — to Janice he looked like nothing less than a demon wearing a borrowed skin.
"First, let me make one thing clear. The person who got you killed isn't me. It's Kaitou Kid."
The Riddler's words landed like a slap. Janice froze, eyes wide behind the gag.
Kaitou Kid?
Why would he bring up Kaitou Kid at a time like this?
Then the pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity. The necklace her father had given her — the one that sparkled just like the stolen jewel in the news — really was the one Kaitou Kid had taken. That was why the Riddler had targeted her.
But how had it ended up in her father's hands?
Janice's mind reeled. Surely her father couldn't actually be Kaitou Kid. The thought was absurd, impossible, terrifying. Kaitou Kid was a legend — a phantom who danced across rooftops, left calling cards, and vanished in clouds of doves. He couldn't be the quiet man who kissed her forehead every morning and asked about her day.
"If you hadn't been wearing the necklace Kaitou Kid stole, you wouldn't have been abducted, and you wouldn't be about to die," the Riddler declared grandly, spreading his arms as though delivering the final line of a play.
"So Kaitou Kid is your killer. Hate him, not me."
With that, his image blinked out. The screen retracted with a soft mechanical whir, plunging Janice back into pitch-black darkness.
The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. Only her own ragged breathing and the faint metallic creak of the chair filled the void.
What do I do? The Riddler says I'll be dead in twenty minutes. Is anyone coming to save me?
Does Dad even know I've been kidnapped? Has the GCPD started looking for me at all?
Panic clawed at her chest, silent and relentless.
What about Batman? Please… save me.
Suddenly, she felt something strange. Hmm?
The chair beneath her jolted — a hard, jarring motion that rattled her teeth. Then came a familiar yet unsettling pull: the slow, steady acceleration of a vehicle.
This weird room is moving. Am I… inside a truck?
She was right.
If anyone had been looking down from above, they would have seen a heavy freight truck tearing down the empty highway, far beyond any legal speed limit. Its headlights sliced through the night like pale knives.
Fortunately — or perhaps suspiciously — it was the only vehicle on the road. Otherwise, a terrible accident would have been inevitable.
Then again, a highway with only one truck barreling toward the port at this hour might have been even more suspicious.
...
"You still lose, Kaitou Kid. In just over ten minutes, that truck will plunge into the sea."
From the shadows of his hideout, the Riddler watched through multiple surveillance feeds, a crazed smile splitting his face.
"Neither Robin nor Kaitou Kid could have guessed that I hid the hostage inside the truck itself."
"I planned to start the truck at the very end of the third day, but you showed up early, Kaitou Kid. Don't blame me for moving the schedule forward… huh?"
Suddenly, something caught his eye on the main screen.
A tiny white speck.
It appeared in the distant sky, growing larger by the second.
At first, it was smaller than the stars. Then it became the size of a grain of rice, still expanding rapidly.
Soon, a white-clad phantom thief gliding on a sleek hang glider came clearly into view — cape billowing, silhouette sharp against the moonlit clouds.
"Kaitou Kid. Why is he flying there?"
The Riddler stared, eyes bloodshot, fingers tightening around his cane.
"Is it just a coincidence? Or… has he found the hostage?"
"Impossible. If he had solved the riddle long ago, all he'd need to do was wait for me to start the truck. Why would he head for the port?"
"Right, he's just passing by. He'll fly past any second now."
Before Kaitou Kid reached the truck, the Riddler quickly tapped a command. The vehicle's speed dropped to a normal, unremarkable cruise — no need to draw unnecessary attention.
Under the Riddler's unblinking stare, Kaitou Kid swept overhead in a graceful arc… and continued on, shrinking into the distance.
"Hmph. I knew he couldn't crack the riddle. He's just wandering around aimlessly. I worried for nothing."
The Riddler scoffed, already turning back to his controls.
Boom.
At that exact moment, the Kaitou Kid who had just flown past exploded in a brilliant burst of smoke and light.
The feed went black. No commands responded; the camera on site had been destroyed in the blast.
"What?"
The Riddler stared in disbelief, mouth slightly open.
The next instant, the communicator beside him rang — a sharp, insistent tone.
His expression darkened to something murderous.
That device was linked directly to the truck's cab. If it was ringing, someone inside was calling him.
And who else could it be?
"Kaitou Kid."
He answered, enunciating each syllable like a curse.
"When did you figure it out?"
"The salesman of death hears the call of the waves. He shall be buried where three tilted crossroads overlap, while the vile murderer smiles before his tombstone."
Kaitou Kid calmly recited the Riddler's proud riddle, voice smooth and unruffled.
"Edward Nygma, that riddle is garbage. One look and I knew the answer."
Veins bulged on the Riddler's forehead, his knuckles white around the communicator.
"Robin's direction was right. Death of a Salesman leads to Miller Port. Roman numerals point to Pier 35. But he stopped too soon. Your riddle keeps talking about death, graves, the murderer. That means Death itself is a clue. In the play, the salesman dies in a staged car accident."
"So the hostage isn't at Pier 35 in Miller Port. She's in a truck numbered 35 that's about to drive from Miller Port into the sea."
Kaitou Kid declared the true solution with quiet finality.
"…Exactly right. I underestimated you, Kaitou Kid. You're sharper than I thought."
The Riddler spoke coldly, forcing composure through gritted teeth.
"But don't think you've won. There's a bomb on that truck. I can detonate it anytime."
"Oh, you mean that sleek rectangular device stuck under the chassis?"
The Riddler's breath caught audibly.
"Heh heh~ I already tossed it. Thanks to the accidents you staged to block the road, blowing it up now won't hurt anyone."
Kaitou Kid chuckled — light, almost playful.
"Kaitou Kid. You win this round. But don't expect me to admit defeat. You announced midnight, yet you showed up six hours early."
The Riddler's rage boiled over.
"Tsk, Nygma. Maybe you should give up the title of Riddler. Who said I came early? I arrived right on time."
Kaitou Kid replied mockingly, the smile audible in his voice.
"Nyx extinguishes the final torch. What else could that mean but midnight? And you call that punctual?"
The Riddler laughed — angry, jagged, bitter.
"Then tell me this. Nyx is a goddess from where?" Kaitou Kid asked like a teacher.
"Greece. Every kid knows that." The Riddler shouted.
"Exactly. Since Nyx is Greek, midnight means Greek midnight. What were you thinking, Gotham time? There's a six-hour difference between Greece and Gotham. Over there, it's midnight right now."
Kaitou Kid said in a disappointed tone, then laughed.
"Did it never occur to you why I chose Nyx specifically? Was the riddle too much for the man who calls himself 'The Riddler'?"
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