The Origin of Mr.Riddles: The World’s Greatest Thief.

The Origin of Mr.Riddles: 

The World’s Greatest Thief. 

I am Ian Query, better known as Mr. Riddles. When I was eighteen years old, I was struck in the head by a bolt of lightning, and my mind was split into two parts: The Wanting and the Question. 

The Wanting was a kleptomaniac, it appeared on my shoulder as a green fox with a bushy tail and beady eyes, urging me to steal anything and everything. The Wanting gifted me power, "Look at anything, then picture any place and it will be taken there!”

It was incredible! I could teleport anything I wanted to the safety of my apartment. I felt like a god, until the Question emerged. The Question was the other side of my mind, it appeared as an owl with cobalt-blue feathers and deep-set black eyes the size of dinner plates, sitting opposite the Wanting, blocking my powers.  

"If I can take anything I want, can I want for anything?" The Question asked in a soothing tone. 

For some reason, this infuriated the fox, causing steam to erupt from its ears like a cartoon character eating spicy peppers. 

They were my constant companions, sitting on opposite shoulders like a bizarre angel and devil. Whenever the Wanting wanted something, the Question struck it down. It was infuriating because the Wanting’s wants were also my wants. But, no matter how strongly the fox and I wanted to swipe something, the owl wouldn’t allow it.  

It was only by happenstance that I discovered the secret to beating the Question. It happened on a scorching summer day, on a boardwalk in Wildwood, New Jersey. The air stunk of cigarette smoke and sea salt. Children pranced about like wild geese, begging their parents for money to spend on sweets and games. One of the games, which involved plastic rings and glass bottles, had a majestic stuffed tiger as one of its prizes.  

"We must have that!" The green fox said, jumping on its paws. 

“I’m small at first, and have no say, but I’ll grow a little every day, what am I?” The blue owl asked in its usual soothing voice, ignoring the fox.  

“Can you just let us have this one?” I pleaded with the owl. 

In response, it rolled its eyes. 

I sighed, gazing at the stuffed tiger, picturing it in my bedroom. 

"Hey!" A chubby teenager said as his considerable person bumped into mine. "Watch where you're going!" 

"Where does one go while they're standing still?" I asked without thinking. 

"Huh? How should I know?" 

WHOOSH. 

A chill ran down my spine, my eyes turned electric green, and the tiger vanished from the carnival booth into the safety of my apartment. 

The owl had vacated its usual perch on my shoulder and was flapping its blue wings above the boy’s head. As the teen wobbled away, I hoped the owl would follow him, but it did not. It returned to my shoulder, blocking my powers. 

Alas, I realized I couldn’t permanently oust the owl, but I could temporarily send it to someone else by stumping them.

 I spent the next few weeks experimenting, with little success. The owl had impossibly high standards that my questions were not satisfying. Meanwhile, the fox informed me that it wanted a car. 

I started at a BMW dealership, where I asked a salesman what the temperature was on Mars. Before he could answer, the owl shook its head at me. 

Refining my technique at the Porsche dealership, I asked a salesman how many mountains there were in the United States, to which he replied, "Ummm no clue." 

The owl lifted its wings teasingly, but did not fly away. It winked at me as if to say, "Nice try." 

 Apparently, trivial questions were unsporting.  

At the Jaguar dealership, my patience was finally rewarded. I approached an older gentleman with a thick black mustache that drooped over his lip, and asked, "I'm faster than any man, yet useless without one, what am I?" 

The man smirked, then replied, "A woman!" 

The blue owl rolled its giant black eyes, then beat its wings until it was above the mustached misogynist. Meanwhile, a stunning Jaguar F-Type with a silver coat like the color of the moon reflecting off the ocean, vanished from the lot and materialized in my apartment.  

The green fox danced around, wagging its fluffy tail in excitement.

Later that day, I returned home to find the car parked in the center of my studio apartment, occupying more than half of the space. 

The owl smirked at me as if to say, “I told you so.” 

Luckily, the Wanting had a solution, which it whispered in my ear, hoping that the Question couldn't hear.  

The next morning I went to a local bank. It was empty, except for an older couple exchanging a jar filled with coins for bills. 

I approached a young blonde teller, who had a blindingly white smile. 

"Good morning! Welcome to MoneyMake Bank, where your money is always making more money! How may I be of service to you?" 

Forgoing any preamble, I said, "I'm of immense value, yet cannot be locked in a vault. I can destroy relationships, but cannot speak. What am I?" 

 The woman's smile faded, her forehead scrunching in concentration. On my shoulder, the owl was frowning, knowing that it was about to lose—

"A secret!" The woman responded emphatically. 

"Um... yes that's correct," I replied. 

"Woah! That was a fun way to start my morning! Now sir, how can I—" 

Feeling defeated, I wandered out of the bank. On my shoulders, The blue owl giggled to itself, while the fox grumbled sadly. 

That night, I slept on the floor next to the Jaguar. I would have slept in the car, only I didn't have the keys. After a terrible sleep, I awoke determined to try again at the bank. I just needed to craft a better question, something that would be impossible to answer, yet meet the owl’s standards of fairness. 

The bank was deserted, except for the two young tellers behind the counter. Surprisingly, the blonde perked up when she noticed me.

"Hey Jackson," she said to the other teller. "This is the guy I was telling you about. Mr. Riddles!"

Jackson, a gangly man with messy brown hair, moved toward the blonde. "I love riddles!" He said to me. 

Their enthusiasm was unexpected and unwanted. I didn't want to be remembered. I considered turning around, and trying another bank, but decided to stay.

"I speak without a mouth, bouncing from wall to wall in seconds, what I am?"

"Oh, that's tough!" Jackson said, rubbing his chin to give the impression that he was deep in thought. "Could it be—" 

"An echo!" The blonde answered. 

"An echo... that's what I was going to say," Jackson added lamely. 

"That's correct," I said. 

I should have left then, but I kept going. I wanted to stump this woman. 

"I vanish the instant you say my name, what am I?" 

Again, the tellers put their minds to work. This time, the blonde spoke first, "I know, you're si—"

“Your Rats!" Jackson answered, cutting off his coworker.

The blue owl sighed, his feathers drooping as he flew above Jackson's head. At that moment, a mountain of cash vanished from the back of the bank. 

I smiled at Jackson, "Correct," I lied. 

I thanked them for playing, then quickly exited.

"See you, Mr. Riddles!" Jackson shouted. 

I was not a fan of that moniker, but I didn't have time to protest. 

After the bank, the owl was silent. It seemed upset with me, even disappointed. "What?" I asked it. "These are your rules! If you're not happy you can leave!" 

The owl's head rotated toward me. In its dark pupils, I saw my reflection. I lost myself in those puddle-like eyes, drowning in their complexities. Covered in water, I started to feel like I was drowning. I struggled for breath, fighting against the black current of those eyes. I screamed—

"Buddy! Hey! Are you okay?"

Reality returned. A teenaged IHOP server was tapping my shoulder, gravely concerned for my well-being. "I'm fine," I assured him.

"You want some water? You're covered in sweat." 

I declined, then bolted for my apartment. 

Ten minutes later, I met with resistance at my apartment door. I checked that none of my neighbors were around, and then I wrenched the door open with all my strength. It swung free, revealing a wall of cash. I watched in awe as money spilled into the hallway, an avalanche of hundred-dollar bills. 

“I’m filthy rich!” I shouted. 

An image of Scrooge-McDuck diving into a pile of gold coins flashed in my mind, while the green fox performed a series of joyous backflips.  

I wanted to celebrate, but the owl's somber expression held me back. For some reason, I craved the owl's approval. 

Using its favorite language, I said, "I'm passed down from parent to child, my value immense, yet I cost nothing, not even a cent?" 

The owl ignored me, refusing to lift a feather. Frustrated, I said, "Come on! You have to meet me halfway—"

Nearby footsteps ripped my attention away. Someone, probably a neighbor, was right around the corner. Moving like an ape, I grabbed stacks of money from the floor, tossed them back into my room, and then slammed the door shut.  

I was still in the hallway, breathing heavily, when the owl decided to speak. It asked, "What is the difference between humans and animals?" 

Before I could respond, a trio of officers rounded the corner, aiming their weapons at me. "Hands where I can see them!" One of them shouted. 

I was handcuffed, charged with grand larceny, and whisked away to a holding cell. I was facing 25 to life and had no hope of defending myself. After all, I was guilty as could be. 

In my haste, I had been foolish. I'd gone to the same bank twice, and given them ample reason to remember me. When they realized the money was missing, the two tellers told the police about Mr.Riddles, the strange man who had come in twice in as many days for no reason. They reviewed the bank’s security footage, identified me, and tracked me down. I even made their lives easy by keeping all the money in my apartment!

Sitting in a dark holding cell, I realized that my once-promising criminal career was now over. My powers would never have the chance to blossom! I was no better than the mangy criminals I was sharing the cell with! 

As if on cue, a man with an eyepatch rose from the bench, and headed toward the silver pot in the middle of the room. I wanted to scream! Instead, I whispered to the owl, "Thinking. That's what separates men from animals."

"Correct," the owl replied in my mind. 

I understood now. The Wanting and the Question were not a devil and an angel. The Wanting was a boulder rolling down a hill, destined to destroy everything in its path, including itself. The Question was the wind, pushing against the boulder, keeping it from destruction. 

Sadly, my revelation had come too late. 

"I want to get out of here!" The fox whined. 

Before I could respond, the owl's head rotated toward the fox. For the first time, the Question spoke to the Wanting, "If I can move all things, am I not all things?" 

Instead of responding, the fox looked at me expectantly. To my surprise, I understood the owl's riddle! Closing my eyes, I imagined an empty place in a faraway land, where I could hone my skills and merge the two parts of my mind into one perfect being. 

For a moment, I felt weightless like a feather drifting in the wind, then the sun's rays grounded me, filling me with warmth and purpose. I opened my eyes and found that the fox and owl were sitting together on my left shoulder, thick as thieves.