Eddie Nashton smiled as he looked at the day's mail. You could say that this was his favorite part of any day, simply going out to collect the mail from the box in the lobby of his apartment complex. It was a small act, truly, yet it meant the world to him. Ever since the doctors at Arkham Asylum emitted him stating that he was "cured" of his obsessive compulsive need for attention and to solve mind games, this was the only excitement in his life for the time being. Eddie smiled, thinking back to the foolishness of the doctors at the asylum. The smile was quickly lost from his face however as he remembered what it was like at that hell hole of a place. Shuddering, Eddie returned his thoughts back the mail. Flipping through it, he couldn't help but laugh at the blunt desperation of the staff at the asylum. They were so desperate to at least "cure" one of their patients, that they were overjoyed when Eddie showed even the slightest disinterest in puzzles, and quickly let him out on parole. What they didn't realize though, was that this was Eddie's plan from the very beginning. In his time sitting in the quiet of the asylum, he had realized that the only way to be able to stay out of the asylum for long periods would be to get emitted. Sure, you could break out, but as soon as that idiotic bat caught you, back to the asylum you'd go. So, Edward bid his time, making it appear as though he was being "cured". 'I always was a great actor' he thought to himself, letting loose a small chuckle. Once he was on parole, the media and even Batman himself kept close watch on him, making sure that he was really cured. After a while, much to Edward's pleasure, they lost interest in him and went back to the normal stories of people breaking out and getting sent back to the asylum. In fact he was sure that by now they would've forgot about him completely. It'd been what, 15 years since he'd been emitted? Living this simple life was a bore, true, but it'd be worth it when he'd have free range on Gotham. The stupid bat would be perplexed by his riddles, and he, The Riddler, would finally win. Eddie almost let loose a laugh, but contained himself. There would be plenty of time for that later, but for now, back to simple life. Taxes for Eddie Nashton. Throw. Advertisement papers on cruises for Eddie Nashton. Throw. Eddie Nashton. Eddie Nashton. Eddie Nashton. Throw. Throw. Throw. He was about to throw away the entire pile when a certain letter caught his eye. Throwing away the rest, he examined this letter while walking back to his apartment. The envelope was all black with green question marks all over it. And in the very middle of the envelope, in bright neon green was a typical Joker Glasgow smile. Unlike any other mail he'd ever gotten this one wasn't addressed to Eddie Nashton, or even Edward Nigma. No, in the address box of the envelope was a single word underlined numerous times. Riddler. So, the manic Clown Prince of Crime found him. Well, let's see what he has to say.