All it takes is one bad day...
Who: Edward Nigma, Susan Sto Helit, and eventually Lil' Slugger
What: The Riddler's compulsive behavior is amplified by the effects of Population Control.
When: Backdated to the evening of Sunday, May 29th, 195X
Where: 726 Anderson Lane
Warning: Potential violence, definite insanity.
Edward Nigma sits alone in his study, his sword-cane leaning right against his chair. His head is in his hands, and his elbows rest against the surface of his desk.
Too many questions. There are just too many questions running through his head right now.
Soon after he’d killed Spain on Friday, he’d received his new target. And when he’d read his new assignment, he nearly dropped the letter in disbelief.
Susan Sto Helit.
The Census Bureau wanted him to kill her. They wanted him to kill one of the few people in this town that actually cared about him. She was the first person in this town who was willing to give her life to protect him, even though she’d hardly thought a thing of it. It did matter. It mattered a great deal. But… he had to kill her. It was just as he’d told Slugger. He’d do whatever it takes to win this crazy little game. Even with those words, he’d locked himself in. He couldn’t go against his own word. His damned compulsion wouldn’t let him.
Two days had passed since his new assignment and he’d still made no move to kill her. Those two days were starting to get to him. He’d barely slept all weekend. He could barely focus on his crosswords. Every time he was near her, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how simple it would be to just… shoot her. Stab her. Drown her. Wring her neck. Anything to move forward and make this pain go away. But he’d always backed down. Always snapped himself out of it. He couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to.
The new letter he’d received on Sunday morning, however, seemed to indicate that backing down is no longer an option. Since then, he’s been hearing voices blaring through his head. Taunting him.
“You should be proud of her,” sneers the Major’s high voice. “There is no shame in being a casualty of war. It would be a pity, thinking a woman like her should die any other way then in battle.”
Shut up, Edward thinks to himself. You don’t know what you’re saying. I’m not---I won’t kill her.
“Why bother...?” interrupts Schuldig’s voice. “We both already know why you'll do it, don't we. So you can try to prove to yourself, for the hundredth time, that for every other failure in your life...at least you're smart. That makes up for everything, doesn't it?”
Edward falters, rising out of his chair and pacing around the room. He’s not hearing this. He’s not hearing this.
No, what he’s hearing right now is the sound of maniacal laughter. Several voices, in fact, laughing horrible, raucous, cruel laughter. They’re all voices from back home. Back in Gotham. Eddie stops in his tracks. He can practically see them all hovering around him. Oswald. Crane. Two-Face. Pamela. Selina. Harley. And dead center, their ringleader. A tall man with a long, pale face, whiter than snow. Demonic little eyes and thin, crimson lips, stretched into a wide, eternal smile. The Joker.
“Lighten up, Eddie, ol’ pal!” crows the Clown Prince of Crime, stepping forward and giggling gleefully. “No need to look so green. It’s all just a game to you, isn’t it? It’s just a harmless little joke!” He slaps the Riddler in the shoulder, grinning menacingly. “Just. Like. You.”
The rest of Gotham City’s Rogues Gallery begins to laugh again. Louder. Edward’s eyes fall to the ground. He feels sick to his stomach. He wants to bolt out of the room right now, find some peace and quiet.
But before he can even move, he hears the sound of footsteps swiftly moving towards him. A small hand reaches out and smacks him hard across the face. The Joker whistles in appreciation, his hand still on Eddie’s shoulder, letting loose another bark of laughter. Eddie winces, glances up to look at his attacker… A young brunette in a white labcoat. She doesn’t even bother saying anything else, turning on her heel to leave, brushing past the rest of the Rogues. No…
“No, wait---!” Eddie reaches out after her. She knows him the best out of anyone in this damn room. She knows all the answers.
“Why should she?” comes a husky growl. The hair on the back of Eddie’s neck practically stands on end. He slowly turns around, the ghastly apparition of the Joker turning with him. The Riddler finds himself face-to-face with a man wrapped in a flowing black cape. His cold eyes peer out beneath a distinctive cowl.
“Because she’s figured you out? Because you’ve told her everything? Because you aren’t a riddle anymore, Nigma?”
Batman looks to the Joker and… grins at him. Then grins back at Edward. It’s downright chilling.
“That’s right. You aren’t a riddle anymore. She knows the answer. We all do, Nigma. And a riddle that everyone knows the answer to…”
“No. No, don’t say it…” Edward gasps out, desperate. “Please---”
“…is worthless,” finishes Batman, sneering viciously. They all begin to laugh again, the Caped Crusader’s thick, low voice rumbling along with them. Eddie pushes the Joker away, taking another step backwards.
“You’re wrong. All of you! I’m not---”
“Worthless.” Edward’s heart nearly stops. No. No, no, not him. Not that voice. He whips around to try and find that stubborn old bastard, but he isn’t here. He’s not physically here. But his drunken voice rings out in his ears, deafening.
“You worthless son of a bitch,” drawls the voice of Edward’s father. “Always said you’d never amount to anything. L-look at you. You’re shaking. What’s---what’s the matter? You stumped? Is poor little Eddie Nashton scared? You goddamn coward.”
“Don’t… Don’t you dare call me a coward, you old fool!” The Riddler scrambles to the desk, taking his sword cane. With a flourish, he withdraws the blade from its base, slashing diagonally, his face contorted with fury. But it connects with nothing. They’re gone. They’re all gone. The haze has lifted… for now.
Edward Nigma swallows, takes several heavy breaths, before sheathing his blade once more. His eyes are narrowed. He knows now what he has to do in order to win their respect. To win everyone’s respect. After taking another moment to compose himself, he marches out of the study, heading quietly to Susan’s room. He takes another deep breath. Steady, Eddie. Steady.
He knocks sharply on the door.
He’s found the answer. He’s found his answer.
He’s going to kill Susan Sto Helit tonight.
What: The Riddler's compulsive behavior is amplified by the effects of Population Control.
When: Backdated to the evening of Sunday, May 29th, 195X
Where: 726 Anderson Lane
Warning: Potential violence, definite insanity.
Edward Nigma sits alone in his study, his sword-cane leaning right against his chair. His head is in his hands, and his elbows rest against the surface of his desk.
Too many questions. There are just too many questions running through his head right now.
Soon after he’d killed Spain on Friday, he’d received his new target. And when he’d read his new assignment, he nearly dropped the letter in disbelief.
Susan Sto Helit.
The Census Bureau wanted him to kill her. They wanted him to kill one of the few people in this town that actually cared about him. She was the first person in this town who was willing to give her life to protect him, even though she’d hardly thought a thing of it. It did matter. It mattered a great deal. But… he had to kill her. It was just as he’d told Slugger. He’d do whatever it takes to win this crazy little game. Even with those words, he’d locked himself in. He couldn’t go against his own word. His damned compulsion wouldn’t let him.
Two days had passed since his new assignment and he’d still made no move to kill her. Those two days were starting to get to him. He’d barely slept all weekend. He could barely focus on his crosswords. Every time he was near her, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how simple it would be to just… shoot her. Stab her. Drown her. Wring her neck. Anything to move forward and make this pain go away. But he’d always backed down. Always snapped himself out of it. He couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to.
The new letter he’d received on Sunday morning, however, seemed to indicate that backing down is no longer an option. Since then, he’s been hearing voices blaring through his head. Taunting him.
“You should be proud of her,” sneers the Major’s high voice. “There is no shame in being a casualty of war. It would be a pity, thinking a woman like her should die any other way then in battle.”
Shut up, Edward thinks to himself. You don’t know what you’re saying. I’m not---I won’t kill her.
“Why bother...?” interrupts Schuldig’s voice. “We both already know why you'll do it, don't we. So you can try to prove to yourself, for the hundredth time, that for every other failure in your life...at least you're smart. That makes up for everything, doesn't it?”
Edward falters, rising out of his chair and pacing around the room. He’s not hearing this. He’s not hearing this.
No, what he’s hearing right now is the sound of maniacal laughter. Several voices, in fact, laughing horrible, raucous, cruel laughter. They’re all voices from back home. Back in Gotham. Eddie stops in his tracks. He can practically see them all hovering around him. Oswald. Crane. Two-Face. Pamela. Selina. Harley. And dead center, their ringleader. A tall man with a long, pale face, whiter than snow. Demonic little eyes and thin, crimson lips, stretched into a wide, eternal smile. The Joker.
“Lighten up, Eddie, ol’ pal!” crows the Clown Prince of Crime, stepping forward and giggling gleefully. “No need to look so green. It’s all just a game to you, isn’t it? It’s just a harmless little joke!” He slaps the Riddler in the shoulder, grinning menacingly. “Just. Like. You.”
The rest of Gotham City’s Rogues Gallery begins to laugh again. Louder. Edward’s eyes fall to the ground. He feels sick to his stomach. He wants to bolt out of the room right now, find some peace and quiet.
But before he can even move, he hears the sound of footsteps swiftly moving towards him. A small hand reaches out and smacks him hard across the face. The Joker whistles in appreciation, his hand still on Eddie’s shoulder, letting loose another bark of laughter. Eddie winces, glances up to look at his attacker… A young brunette in a white labcoat. She doesn’t even bother saying anything else, turning on her heel to leave, brushing past the rest of the Rogues. No…
“No, wait---!” Eddie reaches out after her. She knows him the best out of anyone in this damn room. She knows all the answers.
“Why should she?” comes a husky growl. The hair on the back of Eddie’s neck practically stands on end. He slowly turns around, the ghastly apparition of the Joker turning with him. The Riddler finds himself face-to-face with a man wrapped in a flowing black cape. His cold eyes peer out beneath a distinctive cowl.
“Because she’s figured you out? Because you’ve told her everything? Because you aren’t a riddle anymore, Nigma?”
Batman looks to the Joker and… grins at him. Then grins back at Edward. It’s downright chilling.
“That’s right. You aren’t a riddle anymore. She knows the answer. We all do, Nigma. And a riddle that everyone knows the answer to…”
“No. No, don’t say it…” Edward gasps out, desperate. “Please---”
“…is worthless,” finishes Batman, sneering viciously. They all begin to laugh again, the Caped Crusader’s thick, low voice rumbling along with them. Eddie pushes the Joker away, taking another step backwards.
“You’re wrong. All of you! I’m not---”
“Worthless.” Edward’s heart nearly stops. No. No, no, not him. Not that voice. He whips around to try and find that stubborn old bastard, but he isn’t here. He’s not physically here. But his drunken voice rings out in his ears, deafening.
“You worthless son of a bitch,” drawls the voice of Edward’s father. “Always said you’d never amount to anything. L-look at you. You’re shaking. What’s---what’s the matter? You stumped? Is poor little Eddie Nashton scared? You goddamn coward.”
“Don’t… Don’t you dare call me a coward, you old fool!” The Riddler scrambles to the desk, taking his sword cane. With a flourish, he withdraws the blade from its base, slashing diagonally, his face contorted with fury. But it connects with nothing. They’re gone. They’re all gone. The haze has lifted… for now.
Edward Nigma swallows, takes several heavy breaths, before sheathing his blade once more. His eyes are narrowed. He knows now what he has to do in order to win their respect. To win everyone’s respect. After taking another moment to compose himself, he marches out of the study, heading quietly to Susan’s room. He takes another deep breath. Steady, Eddie. Steady.
He knocks sharply on the door.
He’s found the answer. He’s found his answer.
He’s going to kill Susan Sto Helit tonight.