Hello! I know. I've been gone a long time without updating for you guys and when I do it's so short. I really don't deserve any of you but I promise I'm trying to get them up as fast as I can.
Batman and Robin stared at the black screen thoughtfully. The clue that this Wolf Bane had given was creating more questions than answers, though none of them centering on the clue itself. The way he had sought out Batman to deliver a clue, as if crime was nothing more than a battle of wits, was very Riddler like. The poem, though neither could place it, was obviously from some sort of literature which almost screamed of the Mad Hatter. The questions then turned to the poem itself. Clearly this new threat had hostages and whatever morals he possessed was allowing him to offer them a fair chance at freedom. Batman's eyes narrowed. Wolf's Bane had not outright indicated that he was the one holding these people prisoner and there was something underneath that taunting tone that bothered him. He mentally shook himself. Now was not the time to be debating about a criminal's morals. Whatever the risk he had to play this game to save whatever innocent people had been roped into it. He carefully recited the poem in his head, looking for any kind of hint that might lead him to the next clue. Beside him, Robin snapped his fingers suddenly.
"The Hobbit." Batman gave him a questioning look and Robin smiled. "The poem is from the Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien. I'm surprised you didn't figure it out. Bruce. After all, that boy of yours did a paper for his entrance to Gotham University on the comparison of old writers to new ones. Tolkien was the one he focused on the most for the old writer and he had a field day bashing today's writers since they are all, and I quote, ' over-hyped, over-glamourized, over-rated, over-dramatized pieces of crap'. After reading it, I took a look at some of the writers that he talked about. I finished the Hobbit okay but I could not wrap my head around the Lord of the Rings." Batman made no comment on the child in his care for it brought up uncomfortable emotions. He knew that the way he treated the boy was cruel and every night he would lay in bed, appalled at his behaviour. Every morning he would look at himself in the mirror with disgust and vow to make it up to Thorn, or Derek as he had been redubbed but something in him couldn't get over the simple fact that the boy had been exposed to the Rogue gallery. Whenever he looked at the boy, he saw something dark glinting in those eyes just beyond the surface shrouded in a smoky black veil. He caught brief glimpses of it in the actions that seemed like extensions of the Rogues. Worst of all was that, every time he caught those glimpses, he was reminded of himself. Reminded of how closely he walked along the line of right and wrong, and just how often he crossed it. Shaking his head to clear the thoughts from his mind, he stood and gestured to Robin to follow him. He would worry about the boy later, after all, with how harsh Batman was to him, it's not like he would ever do anything of any real concern.
As the duo crept into the library, they were greeted by the smell of dust and old books. The pale and weak moonlight threw a few slivers of light along the towering shelves but most of the room remained cloaked in shadows. Perfect for someone like the Batman to sneak around. Finding the book proved more than a little challenging as someone had moved it to the checkout desk. Flipping through the pages, he easily found the poem and watched as a small piece of paper fluttered to the ground. Carefully unfolding it to observe the hidden message, Batman's eyes narrowed.
Soft and fragile is my skin
I get my growth in mud
I'm dangerous as much as pretty
For if not careful, I draw blood.
Well can you guess where the next clue is hidden?