BAE Chapter 17

Everyone watches the stock ticker move. Barbara doesn’t know how much these people had to pour into that stock to get it up this high, but Nygma seems pleased. Barbara doesn’t mind seeing the ultra-wealthy take a small hit where it hurts, but she also does not like to see Nygma winning.

“All right, my newly-poor friends,” Nygma says to the camera. “Time to find out if you have what it takes. You’ll need to go to the correct table, but you don’t have time to check them all. No Batman to save you tonight. A bird was given five dollars. An ant was given fifteen. The spider was given twenty. How much did the dog get?”

“Arrg,” Barbara groans in sheer frustration, clenching her fists. “Nygma!” she says through gritted teeth. “It’s 10! Table 10!”

Nygma looks taken aback.

Dad looks sharply at Barbara.

“2 dollars and 50 cents for each leg,” she snaps. “It’s table 10!”

“Well done,” Nygma says with a smirk, but Dad is leaping down from the stage. Barbara’s with him, rushing to table 10.

Dad waves everyone back and kneels looking under the tablecloth. He stands up, then flips the table. Glasses and cutlery crash to the ground.

A large, green gift box waits under the table. Dad yanks the ribbon and the box falls open, revealing a bizarre contraption. There’s a smell of burning oil. Two children’s toys dangle over what looks like nothing more than the fryer from a fast-food restaurant. A pink whale and a blue dinosaur. The toys are held up by strings, but there are some kind of lights around the edge of the box.

“Those strings are coated in wax. They’ll melt soon, so you’ll have to act quickly,” Nygma explains. “But once you break the infrared beam by reaching in, the other will fall. It’s only possible to catch one, and even then you’ll need good reflexes if you don’t want to lose your hand. One of those toys has the number of the exit that’s safe. Just tell me the number and I’ll tell the bomb squad for you.”

“What’s the riddle, Nygma?” Dad demands angrily.

“Isn’t that obvious? This is Roland Daggett’s party, and you can see what a mess of it he’s made,” Nygma says with a shrug. “Try to do the opposite of what he would do. Rich people need it, poor people have it. If you eat it, you’ll die. What is it?”

“Nothing,” Barbara answers.

Nygma grins. “Very good, Ms. Gordon. Congratulations on your promotion, by the way.”

So Nygma is in Gotham. He has to be here to be paying attention to that kind of local news closely enough to be up to date. He’s going down. But Barbara has to get out of here alive first.

Dad’s not getting any younger. Barbara trusts her reflexes over his.

The rich people have gone quiet. They’re all looking to Dad to have the answer, but he doesn’t have it. Barbara has to make the play.

Is the answer hidden in the whale?

Or the dinosaur?