False Reflections: Issue #6

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Being kidnapped by a supervillain is not as unique a situation as you’d expect, or all that different compared to a regular kidnapping/hostage situation, save the additional bouts of maniacal laughter and superpowers.

So, considering the substantial amounts of toxic liquids available in Gotham, there are specific emergency scenarios with being hoisted above acid in mind.

First, don’t struggle against whatever is suspending you if the drop beneath you isn’t completely safe. 

Second, regulate your breathing so you don’t take in too many fumes- if your a hostage the villain doesn’t particularly care about your long term health beyond you escaping or dying.

Third, for fucks sake, just do what the crazy person says so you get home.

“I won’t lie, this is the most unique recruitment pitch I’ve ever seen.” I commented idly, my poison resistance being more than sufficient enough for this. According to Robin, I survived a full-force spray from Poison Ivy… God I’m tired.

Anyway, compared to that mere fumes are apparently not even worth mentioning. Lucky me.

“Please, the blandness of the mundane are for the fools that fill this world. Not people like you and me.” The Riddler smiled crookedly, and it took all of my willpower don’t to full-body flinch at ever being compared to the psychopath right in front of me.

This man has committed several crimes that have ended in the deaths of people, and while he’s no Victor Zsasz or fucking Joker, he was still an unrepentant murderer and I wanted nothing to do with him.

But the intense wave of disgust that washed over me was completely unexpressed, and I looked him in his purple mask. “Alright, so how is this going to work? You ask me questions, and if I get them wrong you drop me?”

His smile twitched for a moment, and the fact I was supposed to cooperate flashed through my mind. The costumed criminal gave a forceful laugh at my words, before spreading his arms out as if to display his oncoming genius. “Correct! You’ve seen right through the initial parts of your initiation, and I couldn’t be prouder of it!”

The gritting of his teeth said otherwise, but while he was busy kissing all the boo-boos his ego received from someone coming up with the same idea as him faster than he did, I blindly examined the chains wrapping around me. Gently caressing the cold metal, following the links, I found the giant padlock keeping the entire thing together.

Because why break out the Anti-Batman shit for a kid you’ve freshly drugged and kidnapped. Feeling the cloth of the long sleeve shirt I wore to bed, I found that he barely tried to pat me down, either. Which was going to be a mistake, given the numerous bobby-pins I’ve hidden inside this thing.

“Okay then, hit me with the first riddle.” My hands worked silently behind my back, blindly finding the clumps of cotton in the shirt and pushing them towards the various exits. Now, even for Gothamites it seems pretty paranoid to begin hiding lockpicks in your fucking clothes in case you’re kidnapped in your pajamas, but I’ve ran into three- now four- capes within one month.

Also, I made a particularly useful invention, so I very much expect someone to kidnap me for whatever reason. This almost compulsory preparation is merely half of what I have prepared- the other being Ryu’s enhanced strength. And poking holes in clothing is something anyone can do by accident, of course I could do it on purpose.

“There are two guards at a fork in the road, and while one path leads to riches the other leads to certain death.” I very visibly didn’t react to the riddle, despite the fact I already knew the answer and was instead stuck listening to this jackass parrot whatever riddle he found on the back of a cereal box this week. “They stop you on the path…” Ignoring the rest of his words, I focused on pulling the lockpicks out of my clothes and into my closed fingers.

“...one only tells the truth, and the other only lies, and you only get one question to figure out which is which. What do you ask?” Now, while there are a group of Gothamites who could pick a lock blindfold, backwards, and with their hands tied behind their back, I unfortunately don’t qualify as one.

Or, at least, I didn’t. But while I’ve always been a Gothamite, more people than ever are aware of Ken as a Gotham orphan along with all that implies. And even with the appearance of being a highly-competent man whose outsmarted the education system as both the most recent and most notable thing I’ve done, even if I’m known as a once in a lifetime genius by everyone…

At the end of the day, I’m the gutter trash even Gothamites look down on, and no achievement could wash that away.

“What’s two plus two.” I responded to the question immediately, having known the answer instantly but needing to wait for him to finish the question. While the Riddler gaped and lost his cool at the thought of someone solving his prized riddle so easily, I returned to using every bit of scummy skill I’ve inherited to open the lock.

While I was now more than aware that some of the best ways to open a lock is to hit it just hard enough that the mechanisms fail and it pops open from the force, I now had to engage with a crime.

“... Would you like to explain your answer?” My finger moved swiftly behind my back, and I shrugged to draw attention away as I attempted to undo the mechanism as I saw that being smart was just as dangerous as being stupid when it came to the Riddler’s games.

“Ah, sure. You see, the best way to answer this riddle would be to use an answer that had a completely definite correct answer. While there are several more ‘clever’ answers to the problem, as in asking how many paths the road split into, or if there was a guard standing next to them,” I rambled on and on, appreciating both the reddening of his face and the distraction from my lockpicking. “A simple math question is simpler, more effective, and gets the point across much easier. Because no matter where you go or who you are, two plus two will be four. Am I wrong?”

One thing I’ve noticed with the Riddler, is that actual sharing of information and the implication of being in a teaching position over him is far more effective at pissing him off than actual condescension. Because what pisses off someone who based their entire value on their intelligence, than someone who doesn’t but is still smarter than them?

I’ve also noticed I really don’t appreciate being kidnapped, or having my sleep interrupted for elementary school, pseudo-intellectual bullshit by a guy who wears green suits covered in question marks.

“You dare mock me?! You think you’re better than me? Smarter, more intelligent?!” I glanced upwards, having seen a shadow move in the periphery of my vision, but decided not to so needlessly antagonize the currently raging villain. “I am the smartest man in Gotham! I have run circles around the police, the government, every single authority in Gotham without a scratch. And you think you’re better than me?!”

“Nah.” I breathed out dismissively. “You did do all of that shit, but if that meant anything than you wouldn’t be kidnapping people and hoisting them up vats of acid just to convince yourself that constantly getting outsmarted doesn’t mean they’re smarter than you.” I relentlessly mocked, taking all his attention onto me instead of the quickly moving thing above me. “But let’s be real honest with ourselves here, we both know whose better than you. You just don’t have the balls to admit it.”

And then the Riddler pulled out a gun, and my eyes widened before I finally hit the sweet spot and fell straight down right as the gunshot rang out in the empty warehouse.

Ears ringing as I fell down in what felt like slow motion, I quickly saw a black something hook through one of the holes in the metal chain. Considering it was bat-shaped, I didn’t hesitate to grab onto it, just as I was yanked away along with the chain.

I was quickly caught by someone, thin yet strong arms lifting me up, and I quickly glanced back to spot a mask followed by hazy orange hair trailing behind her. I couldn’t help myself from blurting something stupid out.

“At least I’m not getting carried by Robin.” I sighed, before deciding to be useful. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone else in here, and whatever gun he’s got can only fit in one hand and he was confident would hit me from where I was hanging.”

Batgirl didn’t say anything, as she was busy dropping me on the ground before leaping towards the gunshots just as I heard the signature click of a gun firing without any ammo. I immediately threw myself back onto my feet, just about to leap into action alongside everyone when my brain kicked in. The Riddler and Batgirl had already begun their chase, and Ryu be damned I was not catching up to either of them with their massive headstart.

Instead, I looked at the pile of metal that had restrained me, and again at the still rushing pair, before picking up the padlock that I had struggled to unlocked.

Hey, did you know Japanese people fucking love baseball?

I pulled back my arm back in a perfect pitch, and without a second of hesitation let the fucker fly.

The sight of the Riddler getting socked in the head by high-speed padlock would warm my heart better than any fireplace this winter.

After parkouring my way back down from the rafters of the building, the first thing Batgirl said to me the entire night was, “That was reckless.” Her voice was clearly altered to sound deeper and farther away than it actually was, which given further contemplation was a weird specification? Would someone with a voice changer for their secret identity be excessively paranoid about their voice if they weren’t well known, or is the Riddler’s unique brand of overthinking contagious?

Ah, who gives a shit?

Too tired and probably too traumatized to give a shit about masks, I responded with absolutely no filter. “Which part? Answering his riddle,” That word was even more ruined than it was before. Do you know how many weird looks I got as a kid for wanting to learn riddles? “Instigating his superiority complex, or throwing the padlock at him?”

“The middle one.” The words were cut off, gruff, and such a clear imitation of Batman’s that it switched from being off-putting and right into being adorable. “Criminals are extremely dangerous and unpredictable even when they’re completely composed. Pissing off the enemy is nowhere near as effective as it seems, especially when you’re restrained and almost literally hanging by a thread.” And suddenly she seems more than happy to talk my ear off, grand.

“I’m more than aware, but when the options are don’t answer the riddle and die, or answer correctly and piss him off I’m going to take the second. Besides, the actively pissing him off part only happened when I noticed you were moving around.”

To her credit, Batgirl immediately put two and two together. “Using yourself as bait when my goal is saving you is so counter-intuitive it cannot be understated.” I rolled my eyes.

“While I’m flattered you think I’m that selfless, if I can spot the ninja trying to save me, the guy trying to kill me can do the same thing. I was just making sure you got the job done, and all in all it was a resounding success.”

“Your input is very much unnecessary.” The slight widening of her covered eyes and the subtle nudge of her head to the side told me she just rolled her eyes at me. I scoffed.

“Please, if you treat all your Damsels in Distress like this, you need the criticism.” My eyes flicked to the side as the sound of police sirens faintly entered the building. I looked back-

“Oh so now you’re a ninja?” I groused to the empty spot Batgirl had previously been residing. I looked up to the rafters, eyes seeming to naturally drift to a certain direction. “Can’t even say goodbye?”

I sighed, rubbing my forehead as the Riddler began groaning off to the side. Without hesitation, I kicked him in the ribs with Ryu’s strength, turning him over as he wheezed in pain. 

Prick.

The first shot of fear I’d felt the entire night, after having The Riddler try to shoot me point-blank, came from a place I had desperately been trying to avoid all my life.

“You must be one unlucky son of a bitch.” Harvey Bullock oh so helpfully added after taking notes on my one for one explanation of the events of the night, sending absolute terror rushing through me.

I am not a superstitious person. I cannot afford to be, when my power is based solely on other’s perceptions of me. Being born in Gotham, being an orphan, I’ve cultivated my abilities and reputation in such a way that it seems more like balance instead of misfortune. I’ve avoided that idea like the plague on the off chance it actively affects my powers.

Sure, people still think of me as unlucky, but it’s less prevalent when they believe I’m the smartest person in the room. Instead, they think it’s ‘only fair’, and pay less attention to it. But now?

Three close encounters with capes that involved my life being in mortal danger- and humans by nature love patterns. I’m now in the danger zone- will I start getting more random encounters with capes? More importantly, do people think I’m some sort of cape magnet?

If the latter comes to pass, and that idea actively triggers my powers, will I be stuck fighting off capes and the like forever? Until I die? Until people stop associating me with it?

For now, I decide to let the twisting of my stomach show as I slumped a bit over in the cushy seat I was provided. “Or everyone in this city needs to start minding their own business.” My morose words, unconfident demeanor, and seeming vulnerability were all purposeful.

In a city like this, Ken the Innocent Party would be a powerful mask, especially since my clean record ensured there was absolutely nothing to contradict it. Especially considering Kyle has absolutely nothing to do with me.

For a split second I wondered if the removal of Kyle, the arrogant Trustfund Baby that has been described several times as a lucky son of a bitch, had anything to do with this bad luck streak I’m on.

I immediately threw the thought, and any adjacent revelations, out of my mind. Trying to measure something as unquantifiable as luck is extremely risky, because while it is ‘measurable’, I cannot guarantee the effects won’t follow me even when I take off the mask.

Sure it’s certainly possible to try my luck at a casino, but even ignoring the fact it would be illegal to enter and the need to report what my tuition/scholarship money is being used for, I’m not fucking dumb enough to try and cheat at gambling in this city.

Letting my body auto-pilot through the rest of the conversation with Bullock, I sighed before doing what I’d always done when luck had come up as a factor for my masks; resolved to get so good at everything I attempt, chance is no longer a factor.

And besides, in every cloud there is a silver lining. Considering the fact that I’ve recently been kidnapped, and after speaking up about Gotham Academy on live television as well, I’m expecting various benefits to flow my way so I don’t sue the school for incompetence.

After all, if a villain could kidnap me, what would happen to a child they actually cared about?

Remember, there is certainly a difference between blackmail and guilt-tripping. Only one of them is illegal.

A/N: Sorry it's short, got something interesting for the next one and wanted to get this out of the way. Thanks for reading, Peace.