A story high above the low, recorded by few, disputed by later.

[enigmaestro]

WHO: EDWARD NYGMA and POSSIBLY YOU.
WHERE: NOHoPE.
WHEN: August 8th - August 14th.
WARNINGS: Sweep you all up on a corner and pay for my bread.
SUMMARY: You know that I cannot believe my own truth.
FORMAT: To show what a truth, it's got nothing to lose.

Comments

[afeatherpillow]

The last month had broken something inside Katurian. Small cuts and tears grew inside of him, flourished, built. It happened the day he returned to the City, bruised and scraped, whittling out memories that no one close to him seemed to remember. It happened the moment he realized he had been tortured and abused, and then the moment DeConnick told him I hope you're not squeamish. It happened when he met Fugue, when his idyllic home (the most comfortable place he had been in months, years maybe) was torn apart by anonymous bones and flesh. It happened when the woman he didn't really love who had given him trust he didn't really deserve died against him

[enigmaestro]

He was watching his hands, when Katurian was let in. His back was to the door, his arms extended and fractionally obscuring one of his fourteen riddles. Palms faced his wall, and Eddie was staring at the backs.

"Their Latin name, of course, is manus." Eddie spoke to the footsteps he heard, refusing to turn around. "Man -- us. This curious mutation, this very unnatural shape, the hand. A name in one language, broken and morphed by another to obtain an entirely new insight. Man. Us."

He turns at that, pulling away from his riddles and greeting his guest with open hands. And lacerated, bleeding palms.

"Are we defined by our mutation, Katurian?"

[afeatherpillow]

His eyes darted to the hands, and Katurian pictured himself during his first stint in a hospital, his hands crushed and mutilated beyond recognition. He had tried to write with them, again and again, until his bones cracked anew and bled through their bandages. Watching Eddie, he shuddered. Unmistakably.

Then he started looking for sharp objects.

"What did you do?" It was practically a whisper. His body was tight all over, and while he was sure that Edward wanted him to answer the question, to continue despite this turn, even in his lowest of lows, Katuiran could not unwind himself completely

[enigmaestro]

"Oh dear. Caught me red-handed." Eddie winked, as if expecting Katurian to play along. It was likely a vain hope, he knew, but that notion didn't make any imprint on his callous smile. Glancing down at his hands again, he gave pause. Then instead of wiping his palms against his pants, or some cloth, Eddie smeared his blood across a riddle.

"They took away my pens. I had to improvise."

Eddie's eyes followed Katurian's in the latter's search for sharp objects. He was amused by the effort, curious to see what Katurian might unearth. Carefully, he edged his way towards his company, his cleaner hand idly scratching pink marks around his neck.

"Now you're here, with me."

8/10/11 - After Hours

[meowminx]

She'd broken in in the middle of the night to taunt Norman. She could at least do the same for a guy who once in a long while was something almost akin to a friend.

Security was less of an issue than finding the right gift to bring along as promised. Crossword puzzles were a bit too obvious, other books rather vague. She settled on a handsome journal (bound in green leather of course) with a silver pen that slid into the spine.

Hopefully he wasn't crazy enough for that to give him any ideas.

She remembered the layout and the systems well enough to find his room without too much trouble. But the writing on the walls did bring her up short.

[enigmaestro]

"Selina," Eddie had practically cooed upon seeing her. He was expecting her audience post-hours, anything less would have been somewhat disconcerting. His hands were still bandaged from the previous day, but there was no long any blood stains on his hospital-appropriate garb. It was almost a cleanly, stable appearance.

He spread his arms wide.

"So good to see you." He walked over the floor, littered with the finished puzzle books Katurian had granted him. Eddie grinned, shrugging. He didn't offer explanation for the vandalized walls.

[meowminx]

"Eddie." She stood her ground. If he was approaching her for a hug, she really was going to wonder about his sanity. Things didn't look too good from where she was as is.

"How are you feeling?"

[enigmaestro]

"How am I feeling?" The question incited a quirk of his brow. "How would you suppose I'm feeling, I wonder?"

He offered another shrug before indicating a chair nearby his bed, if she fancied a seat.

"I'm afraid the interior decoration is otherwise sparse."

8/12 - early

[osreborn]

Once upon a time, Norman had spent visiting hours behind these walls, behind these thick panes of glass. He remembered easily the weight of it when his fingers would press, every crack in the cell walls burned into his mind forever.

He slid easily into the chair opposite Edward Nygma, the anticipation on his face restrained. He'd looked solemn, in fact, when he first entered the building, though all there was in his eyes was sadistic pleasure.

"How's the new home?," he said quietly, not taking his eyes away from Eddie's to even blink. "It's a good look for you. Being in your natural element, it shows in your eyes. You're looking as clever as ever, if not more so. And so much more psychotic."

He crossed his legs. "You're welcome."

[enigmaestro]

"Well, you know what they say about genius and madness." Eddie wafted his hand lazily towards his walls, indicating his recent work. His posture was languid, relaxed. He wasn't bothering to play the gentleman between these tense moments. He didn't move off his cot, he didn't even sit up in Norman's presence. Dignity was a commodity unaffordable to anyone within these walls.

"Ever intertwined, like dual threads of the Moirae," he said, finally meeting Norman's unblinking stare. "You know. Destiny."

He tasted the word against his teeth, breaking into a wolfish grin.

"I hope you weren't expecting gratitude."

Beneath the sedatives, beneath the dislocating chemical stops on his synapses, Eddie could feel the agonized hatred howl within his veins. His smile twitched in response.

[osreborn]

"I do. Not that anyone else around here understands that much," Norman said with a grin, voice still quiet. He cast an idle glance to the security camera and sat straighter, hands folded in front of him. They didn't record sound, but in buildings like this the walls always had ears when you didn't want them to.

"You're a genius who's re-embraced his madness. Not by choice, perhaps. I'm a genius who refuses to let it go. It's only natural that I'd have to be the one to lead you through just an intimate process."

He leaned just a touch closer and touched a finger to his temple.

"You really should thank me."

[enigmaestro]

"Why are you here?" Eddie jolted upwards, as if electrified. He leapt to his feet, eyes wide with a white hot awareness. A needling fear. A scalding hate. "Why are you goddamn here?"

The rush of emotion broke through his veneer of a smile, transforming it into something tragic and broken and loud. He couldn't control himself, couldn't control what Norman was making him feel, couldn't control the truth of Norman's words. Because Norman was telling the truth.

Nothing had rang false.

Eddie jerked towards Norman, keeping a distance of only a few inches. Refusing to touch him, adamant about remaining tall on that very last battleground. When he spoke, it came out quiet and slurred together and rapid.

"I won't stop Norman, I won't ever stop now and because of this, because you've done this, I am absolved of anything -- anyone who might get hurt, I will stop at nothing." He exhaled. "Nothing. Until I have you kneeling."

August 8th - after hours

[technophantom]

Something about breaking into a mental institution should probably be the tip-off for an ordinary person that they belonged there. For Ghost, though, it was routine infiltration with a more personal twist - that Karla was working here, that his current boss was institutionalized here. A layer of surreality atop the regular madness that was his everyday existence. There was no righteous thrill as he penetrated the complex as surely as water bled through cracked glass, because he wasn't here to blow the place sky high and release the (surely) political prisoners therein. In its place he felt a low-level resignation, a disappointed ebb at the back of his brain that he couldn't fix everything wrong, at least not this time

[enigmaestro]

"You didn't even knock," Eddie accused with a whiff of mock-haughtiness. He wasn't in bed, but instead was pacing along the far end of the room, hands behind his back. The low-lit darkness suited his demeanor -- brooding, hostile and ironically self-aware. "What if I was in a compromised position? What then?"

His communicator was discarded, still under his pillow from when he had stashed it (still recording) during Karla's brief visit. It was the only physical weapon he had now, the only tool to use against his environment. The machine with the Ghost outside of it. Eddie smirked to himself, enjoying the idea at play.

"I had figured you for a binary man. That's what I like about you, Ghost, your skill can be depended upon." Eddie walked around his sudden company, coolly surveying Ghost. "And I'm in need of a dependable variable. Would you like to know why?"

[technophantom]

"--I might turn off my visual feed." But he wouldn't stop recording it. He set down on solid ground, something about Nygma's affect prompting him not to hover, stood hunched forward with the mask tipping this way and that to follow the pacing.

Something was different, here. Whatever had happened to him had--changed him, or perhaps just rearranged him, something just under the surface that he didn't much like but knew better than to ignore. The compliment, though, he didn't seem to quite acknowledge, didn't seem to know how to acknowledge.

"Yes. I would." Circled, he turned to look over his shoulder, the small room seeming smaller, suddenly, and if Ghost hadn't been able to leave at any moment, he was sure he'd find the mild uneasiness harder to suppress.

"Karla isn't working in your best interest?"

[enigmaestro]

"She isn't," he drawled. "Quite unladylike in fact, given her previous disposition."

Eddie watched Ghost drift, pleased with his interest in the riddle. He knew the puzzle would appeal to such a mind as Ghost's, he had in fact counted on it. And as long as his visitors took an interest in his riddles -- his confession, his intent -- then Edward was exonerated.

"But that's really tangential to the matter at hand." Eddie cracked his knuckles, as if emphasizing the point. "You see, I need you, Ghost. I need you in a position where you can keep vigilance over Karla Sofen."

He strolled closer, carefully and gently taking steps. His eyes remained on the hovering man.

"I need you to lead the Thunderbolts for me, temporarily."

Small hours of the 10th

[incywincyhero]

It was with a sense of deja vu that Spider-Man crept along the walls and ceilings of the corridors of NOHoPE, not quite mirroring the path he'd taken to see Norman just a few months ago. And now it was the man who'd been Norman's "handler" who was behind the safety glass. Coincidence? Peter would have known it wasn't, even without Eddie's dancing around the details on the network. Not that a man didn't have reason to be discreet about the reasons for his hospitalization (as discreet as practically broadcasting news of his stay over a semi-public social network could be, anyway), but Peter knew Norman Osborn's handiwork when he saw it.

He also knew that he'd dropped the ball. His worst enemy had been in the City since before he'd arrived, and he'd lost track of what Norman was up to. It was easy to make excuses, to say that there'd been so much to adjust to, so many people to look out for, and the Norman situation had seemed under control if not perfectly resolved -- but the truth was that he'd been complacent. Norman had become

[enigmaestro]

It was the boredom that conquered his patience. Waiting, without diversion, with only the Network as his companion -- and even then, that was an uneasy alliance. His caretakers thought his interaction with society (even removed society) should be kept minimal. Monitored. Controlled. Eddie's dissent on the topic exploded in a few moments of violent discussion. Violent in the most ungentlemanly of senses.

That's why he was in the straitjacket for a couple of hours.

"Well," reasoned Edward to himself. "Clearly they hadn't thought that through very well." He eased pressure on his shoulder, intent on popping it out. It was a worn puzzle, something he had been quite good at back in the day. Arkham doctors caught on eventually, of course, and reinvented certain patterns, creating new physical mazes to overcome. This, if anything, was just a touch nostalgic.

But at least this was a puzzle to stave off the boredom.

[incywincyhero]

Spidey's first glimpse of Eddie as he turned the last corner was enough to make him stop there in consternation. He clung there for long moments, unwilling to flee, needing to make himself face up to this. It wasn't, he told himself, all that different from visiting the patients at Ravencroft. Except that Eddie, far from being restrained for his own safety -- and more pressingly, for the safety of others -- was here only because of Norman's machinations. (Well, probably, another voice chimed in. At the very least Eddie had a tenuously intense grip on sanity, still, and wasn't likely to start eating people. Unlike certain other inpatients of Spidey's acquaintance.)

Eventually, he skittered forward the last few paces and slipped down a webline, hovering upside-down at eye level. Now, if only he could find out what to say...

"I don't know, Eddie. It makes a bold statement, but it's not really your color, is it?"

[enigmaestro]

"Oh look. A hero. Just as I was about to cause distress -- Why. Hello there," Edward said as he looked right back, his eyes wide and curious. "Spider-Man."

He ceased his struggling, and the straitjacket relaxed under the eased stress. Edward was curious to see Norman's hero show his mask so quickly -- it was almost hurtful, that none of the Gotham credentials had yet paid visit. Almost painful, really. But the day was newborn, Eddie reasoned, perhaps he shouldn't be so dismissive of his own peers just yet.

Something had to amuse him by lunch, after all.

Eddie smirked at his costumed company, maintaining that eye level contact for as long as Spidey would allow it. With each passing second, his grin grew. There was a tension not quite verbalized between them, one that Eddie did nothing to clarify. Why spoil the puzzle so quickly, anyway? With a deep breath, he sought only to puncture the silence.

"Well? Are you going to help be out of this damned thing or not?"