It was the children's fault, really. Edward's head had been under the hood of the Batmobile when he'd heard the soft gasp, accompanied with the unmistakable sound of small sneakers clumsily dragging along the pavement. One child had led to another and suddenly he'd been swarmed with small arms and high voices. Oh, and the attention from everyone within the vicinity, as if parents couldn't let their offspring out of sight for five minutes. FIVE MINUTES. Really, that was all he had needed. Actually, Edward could have done it in four. Maybe even three. Just THREE more minutes and it would have been his for sure.
Stealing Gotham's most prized vehicle was no cakewalk and that was why he'd done his homework. Edward had spent days agonizing over the finer details of car alarm systems and more importantly, how to disable them. There was no way to know for sure which technologies the Batmobile utilized—the schematics were locked somewhere not even Edward could crack into—so he'd needed to be prepared for anything and everything. Edward had to wait weeks just to get a shot at the heist; as it'd turned out, Batman didn't just roll up to any old car show. It had to be a public event, which automatically raised more threats than Edward was used to calculating for. That had been fine, it wasn't as if he couldn't do it (to even presume that bordered on the offensive), but it'd taken so much of his energy that Edward had started to question why he needed the vehicle so badly in the first place. Despite this, he'd followed through with the plan he'd expertly calculated.
Due to the public nature of the event, the attempted theft had to take place outside the children's library… practically in broad daylight and right in the middle of the busy town. Alright, it'd been a quarter to nine in the evening—which, by the way, didn't even make sense because who held an event aimed at children at a time many of them were put down to sleep? That was just poor planning. But really, it was much earlier than Edward generally preferred to do this sort of business. It wasn't that he was partial towards the cover of darkness itself, but he did prefer times when people were less likely to bear witness to his crimes. It made less of a mess, in any case. This kind of work was better left to people who could take the fall for him, but this was a mission that Edward had not an ounce of faith in his henchmen for.
That's how Edward had ended up crouched inside an empty dumpster for over an hour, waiting for the right time to strike. It wasn't until the admirers had all drifted inside for the exposition that Edward had jumped out of the bin and into action. He'd already prepared for the event by disabling nearby security cameras and re-routing patrol cars to other areas of the city, but for all of the work he'd put into planning, he'd failed to factor in the one surveillance method that mattered.
The children.
He'd known that there might be one or two kids that lagged behind the group or who preferred not to sit through what must have been the most pretentious lecture ever given within the library's walls. What Edward hadn't realized was that he was apparently just as well-liked by the ankle-biters as he was hated by citizens of a full stature. Cries of "it's the Riddler!" and pleads for signatures rose up louder than any alarm siren he'd ever set off. Edward had half a mind to blow one of their heads clean off and demonstrate just how FRIENDLY he really was. But no, that would only end in direct action from the nearest moron with a firearm. THAT would be far from ideal; keeping his brain in one piece was quintessential towards completing any one of his main objectives and anyways the newspapers would butcher the story. It wasn't worth it.
Edward didn't slow his work under the close scrutiny but the children were unrelenting. It wasn't long before they were joined by a more formidable force. His 'admirers' soon showed their true colors as he was swiftly (and quite physically) removed from the front end of the car; applause and cheers were the last things he heard from the audience before the passenger side door was slammed shut. Just when Edward thought THAT had been the worst of it, the party (vigilante included) disappeared back into the library to finish the presentation. He hadn't been left alone of course; an officer looking rather pleased with himself leaned up against the side of the car and offered a few fruitless taunts while monitoring Edward closely. With backup units already en route, any chance at successful escape was slim.
He was being perceived as not threatening enough to have to stop the public demonstration and be carted away to a more secure location immediately. Humiliating. Edward hadn't even had time to disable all of the security measures so he couldn't even start the car enough to turn on the radio. All he'd needed was three more minutes, and he'd have been cruising down the streets of Gotham in a tricked out new ride. If anything, the setback only made Edward want the Batmobile even more. A minor delay, nothing more and nothing less. It was… INCONVENIENT to have to deal with another escape from Arkham, but it would not deter him. All he had to do was wait.
It was just after ten when Batman once again emerged from the children's library. He was chatting with some of the officers present, but it was clear that he was just as eager to get going as Edward was. Once the vigilante was seated and the car had been started, Edward made an attempt at conversation.
"You're lucky the weather is nice tonight; I could have overheated in here." Edward scoffed, "Not even a cracked window." He was only half-kidding; without the car being turned on it HAD begun to get a bit stuffy. Now that the air conditioning could be activated, the driver cranked it up wordlessly. He hadn't taken the bait. How BORING. Well. If that's how things were going to be, the car ride would be almost unbearable.
It wasn't long before the strong blasts of cold air were overbearing. Asking for a change in temperature was out of the question; if the vigilante wouldn't even engage in casual banter there was no way he'd play along with small requests the rest of the drive. He had to save an inquest for if he ACTALLY needed something—this of course was unlikely but always possible. Edward was tempted to dial the AC back himself, but there really was no point in demonstrating that he'd YET AGAINproved himself a worthy escape artist. There was something quite insulting about being clipped into "re-invented" handcuffs that were supposed revised in order to successfully trap him in, as if he wouldn't be able to slip his hands out just as easily as the previous version. It was better to just maintain the illusion of being caged in, especially if Batman was in a testy mood. Besides, the cuffs weren't even all that tight that time and really, the cold was doing nothing but keeping him alert. It could be worse. He was going to complain about it anyways… just not while he was within arms' reach.
They'd almost just made it to the bridge heading out of town when their journey slowed. The traffic wasn't terrible but it was just congested enough that the driving was made agonizingly meticulous and Edward hardly had the patience for it. The clock on the dashboard read 22:17 so he couldn't fathom where all the halfwits were going at that hour. It was too late to be commuters and in the wrong direction to be worn down travelers. Whoever these people were, of course they just HAD to wait until he was on the road, stuck in an almost harrowing silence with his most infuriating nemesis, to flee the city.
Well… one of those problems was easily solved. Edward knew he wouldn't be able to stay silent for very long.
"Looks like a nice evening for trouble." The least Edward could do was put the vigilante on edge. "Good thing you're on your way OUT of the city."
"You can't always trust what you see." Batman returned, to Edward's surprise. He wasn't sure if it was a general warning or a misguided attempt at therapy. Edward had never been known to have hallucinations, so the latter seemed unlikely.
"My eyesight's just fine, thank you." It actually WASN'T but that wasn't the point.
"It's about perception." The driver corrected. Oh, now it'd just turned into a psychology lecture. This was the last person Edward wanted to hear a speech, especially of this sort, from. He held himself back from a reply, preferring silence to whatever that had been. He could escape, sure, but then that would blow the cover. Edward's ankles were shackled to the bottom of the seat and getting himself out of those would require freed hands. Besides, he still had a bit of a sore knee from the last time he'd jumped out of a moving vehicle and this time it wasn't even an emergency.
Edward DID worm his way out from the seatbelt that'd been across his chest. Not even because he was uncomfortable, but just to keep the driver from thinking he'd gotten too docile. Batman made no effort to correct the positioning or even to chastise Edward, but the passenger could tell it'd gotten under his skin. All of that safety preaching to the kids had turned him soft. He glanced at the clock again, impatiently kicking against the ankle restraints. The dashboard read 22:20, not surprising considering the length of the bridge but not doing much to ease his mind. Edward on edge and he wouldn't be able to relax until they were completely out of the city and therefore out of the range of the usual trouble. The last thing he needed was someone else deciding to take a swing.
There was some sort of commotion just past the halfway point of the bridge. Admittedly, without his glasses Edward couldn't see what it was from the distance. He feigned disinterest until they got close enough for him to make out a car, pulled off to the shoulder and with passengers standing off to the side of the bridge. What they were doing, Edward couldn't fathom. Even at this time of night, the 'view' of the city was hardly worth stopping for. Hazy air, contaminated water, and the city of concrete. Not exactly the picturesque scene advertised in the postcards.
Without warning, one of the persons from the car darted out into the lanes of traffic. Due to many of the usual safety features being previously disabled, many of the gadgets usually employed by the vehicle were offline and Batman was forced to swerve out of the way. The next thing Edward knew, he was weightless. Heart caught in his throat, nothing but inky water and orange sky through the windshield. The feeling of zero gravity didn't last long. Water grew closer, Edward helpless to do anything except lean back in the seat and hope for the best.
His face slammed into the airbag, features melting into the nylon. The impact had sent him crashing into the dashboard, which knocked the breath out of him but nothing more. Thankfully, Edward hadn't even glanced at the passenger side of the car when attempting to disable all security measures. It wasn't even that he'd targeted taking down the airbags, but many of the systems were intertwined and so he couldn't exactly pick and choose what to keep active. Edward slipped his wrists out of the handcuffs, pushed himself back into the seat, and then moved down to release his ankles. Keeping the illusion of captivity was no longer important. Edward's hands moved to his face, feeling his nose gingerly. The surrounding skin was tender, already starting to swell. It wasn't bleeding though, so maybe it wasn't broken. That'd be an appreciated change in pace.
It wasn't until he'd finished examining himself for injuries that Edward thought to give any regard for the man in the driver's seat. The vigilante's seatbelt had saved him for flying over the dashboard, however, he'd fared the opposite problem as Edward. The other airbag never deployed, likely due to the tampering to the security systems. This had led to the man obviously hitting his head on the steering wheel. Batman remained slumped against the wheel, showing no signs of consciousness.
"I hope you're dead." Edward spat, to see if he'd get any response. There was none, but that didn't mean anything; he could see through the costume that the man was still breathing. For now.
There was a moment in which Edward thought that the vehicle would stay afloat, as it did have many advantageous adaptions and that would be the least surprising modification to make. But after wobbling precariously on the surface, the weight settled to the front of the car and everything tilted forward. He nervously scanned the dashboard of the car for something to help the situation, but all he could do was watch as the vehicle dipped below the surface of the river.
The water was dark but the interior lighting of the vehicle allowed for some illumination. The car was as aerodynamic in water as it was in air—funny how one of the features that'd made it so appealing in the first place would be what landed them so quickly in the sandy mud. The car was stuck at an angle, nose buried firmly into the floor of the river with the backside slightly elevated. They were safe for now; it was no surprise that the Batmobile had been built to be airtight, nor that it seemed to be recycling its own air supply. Oh, this vehicle was certainly the steal of a lifetime, worth more than the hundreds of secrets buried in those same sands. Shipwrecks and tossed evidence and surely enough bones to have its own graveyard.
The car was stable, but it wouldn't be for long. Not because of its own design but rather because Edward intended to exit the vehicle shortly. Sure they'd likely be rescued soon enough (no doubt some worried onlooker had already called it in) but that would mean being recaptured and that was no longer the clearest path to victory.
It wouldn't be a difficult swim to the surface… maybe not EASY but definitely something that he could manage. At this time of night and year, however, the river would be cold. With just the clothes he had on, Edward wasn't sure about being able to brave the waters. It ran the risk of having the air sucked out of his lungs or even hypothermia. There had to be something in the car to combat that. There were so many buttons, so many secret compartments, that Edward had no idea where to even begin searching. How could he look for something he wasn't even sure was there? Wait, no. Just think about this for a second, Eddie. As it turned out, being trapped in a car submerged at the bottom of a river did not foster the greatest thought processes. Just- the utility belt! Of course. He threw the unconscious man backwards in the seat to gain easier access to the accessory.
It took only a couple of seconds to sweep through some of the pouches and dig out something labeled "anti-freeze pills". Edward had no choice but to trust that whatever idiot who'd named them was proficient enough in the English language to have purposely put the hyphen in the title. Although… all things considered, maybe a bit of engine coolant would do him some good. It couldn't be any worse than the other dozen toxins he'd been exposed to or forced to ingest over the years. It was worth the risk. Edward wasn't sure how many pills to swallow but two seemed like the safest bet and, after noting the current situation, complaining about taking them dry didn't seem wise. The task was almost more uncomfortable than the airbag had been, but having done so gave Edward a bit more confidence about the situation. He was ready.
Edward pulled at the door handle, not at all surprised to find that it was locked. Unlike a standard car, there was no immediately evident way to disable this feature from where he was sitting. It was almost a show of respect that Batman had activated it; even though Edward hadn't tried to escape this time around he apparently gave the impression of someone who was going to. Not an unfair assumption and it was definitely wise of the vigilante to do everything in his power to keep the criminal in. If he had more time, Edward would have searched for the release. It probably wouldn't even be very hard, but he was increasingly aware of the passing of time and the impending police force. A more reckless approach was in order.
All he really had to do was break the window. The idea was simple enough, although Edward was unsure if the glass had been fortified and therefore resistant to mere human strength. Edward was willing to at least try the escape method and to do this he needed somethings to strike the window with. Nearly anything would—ah. Yes. Edward reached across Batman's lap and withdrew from the belt a flashlight. It was a bit lightweight, but it would work. He'd just have to put some muscle into it.
Edward paused then, fingers tightening around the flashlight as the consequences of what he was about to do suddenly sunk deeper than the car ever could. Breaking the window would allow his escape, yes, but it would also irreversibly flood the car. The driver, still unconscious, would drown. It was impossible not to smile at the thought of this. The city rid forever of the vigilante Edward had been targeting for years. No struggle, no broken bones or malfunctioning machines, just the watery grave. The body would probably even look nice enough for an open funeral, and then EVERYONE would know the deep, dark secret (since they were all to blind to figure it out themselves without help in the first place). And the best part was that they couldn't even put Edward away for it. A failure to provide assistance wasn't a crime, not one they could convict on anyways. They had him for the 487 but for killing Batman? Not a scratch. He'd be untouchable and everyone would even know that he'd done it.
Everyone… everyone except… Edward's eyes turned slowly onto the body slumped to his left. Everyone would know except HIM. That was what had always mattered, wasn't it? That was the whole reason he'd even let things go as far as they had. It had always been about defeating Batman but really that wasn't it at all. Edward wanted to beat the vigilante but he wanted the masked man to KNOW he'd been bested. To know who'd done it, to prove just how much more INTELLIGENT Edward was. And really, this death wouldn't even be on Edward's hands at all. It wouldn't even be his FAULT. None of this had been of his design it had just been an… accident.
An accident!
Edward would never be able to live that one down. Of all the times he'd tried and not quite made it all the way, of course it would be the time Edward had no hand in it at all. Nobody would give him the credit, either. They'd say he just saved himself, or blame the malfunctions on the car not making its recent tune-up. There was no way to prove that he'd tampered with the functions, nor that he'd even had the opportunity to end it himself.
There was one thing he could do. Edward re-adjusted his grip on the flashlight, moist palms making it difficult to hold on with as tight of a grip as he would have liked. It hadn't been part of the plan before but… it would be easy to prevent the death from being marked as 'accidental'. That had never been part of the plan. It was always meant to be indirectly caused by Edward's superior actions, never a direct way of dealing with things. But that wasn't set in stone… was it? I could do it if I wanted to. Blunt objects did the job just as good as a sharp one; it even made less of a mess. Two or three hits would probably do it. That dry, sticky feeling in his mouth was just the anti-freeze pills. The aching in his gut was just the kick he'd gotten during the arrest procedure. I could do it and EVERYONE would know.
It wasn't good enough.
The more Edward thought about it, the louder the alarms went off in his head. Killing Batman wasn't defeating him, just putting him out of service. After all the work he'd done, all the efforts he'd ever made, that wasn't enough. Killing the vigilante might end up being the consequence of proving Edward's superiority, but it wasn't the part that he desired the most.
It'd have to wait then… which meant likely having to get the vigilante out of the submerged car and up to the shore himself. Fine. If he HAD to, it was done. First things first: he had to open the escape route.
Edward struck the center of the window with the flashlight consecutively, until the glass cracked and then finally burst open. It wasn't until he reached for the driver that he realized he'd forgotten to remove the seatbelt that held the man to the chair. Edward fumbled with the seatbelt release, thumbing it almost frantically before realizing it had somehow jammed. The water level was at his waist and quickly rising; he doubted he had more than twenty seconds or so before the air had been completely displaced. Without thinking, he went for a third time to the utility belt the driver was wearing. Apparently it was more helpful than Edward had anticipated; maybe he would have to… look into that.
This time it was one of those, what were they called- oh. A batarang. Just THINKING the childish name for it made his stomach churn. If he'd had more time to think about it, Edward might have formulated a different approach. This time, however, he had no choice but to use the item to cut the seatbelt holding the other man down. The water level was at chest level before this task was complete. He could feel the sensation of the water but the anti-freeze pill must have been doing its job because Edward didn't sense any sort of temperature from it at all.
He waited until the water had risen to his neck, biting down panic and thoughts of drowning. You're better than that. Beneath the surface, Edward dug his fingernails into his palm. Sure, it was easy to SAY he was too astute to be afraid, but that was a difficult façade to maintain when he was at the bottom of what might as well be the most polluted river north of Virginia. You're not going to die, not here. Imagine, of all the places and ways to go. His body, bloating and being torn apart by any mutated sea life that still dared to patrol the river, rotting in the same car he'd worked weeks to get his hands on.
While taking a series of deep breaths, Edward hooked his arms under Batman's and drew the vigilante closer. His confidence in his ability to drag the both of them to the surface had never once faltered; if it came down to it, he could always just drop the dead weight and save himself. It wouldn't be ideal but it was a safety net.
There was no more avoiding the inevitable. It was time to exit the vehicle. One last breath, repositioning himself so that his legs were bent and his knees were almost touching his chest. Edward pushed himself out through the window, submerging himself fully in the dark water. He was able to remove the driver from the vehicle as well, repositioning the limp body so that Edward could get a better hold around the form. He wasn't trained in life-saving techniques, but he COULD swim well. It was something he'd had to pick up as an adult, because when he was first getting into the business he'd done everything possible to minimize physical weaknesses that could be exploited. Using the car as something solid, Edward propelled the two of them towards what he hoped was the surface. It was too dark to tell direction or depth and anyways he didn't fancy pollutants drifting into his eyes and so maybe keeping himself blind was the better choice anyways.
Edward's head broke the surface first and with some skill he brought the vigilante's up for air as well. He had no way of preventing Batman from inhaling the water so his only hope was to get them to shore quickly and do whatever resuscitation necessary from there. The river was slow that night; they hadn't gotten any rain for a while so there was less water to work with in the first place. He let them drift with the river momentarily, catching his breath and preparing to do the heavy swimming. The fact that both of them were completely clothed certainly didn't make it easier. Edward could do it. It was neither fun nor easy, but it was better than the alternative.
Surprisingly, the side-strokes came naturally. It felt awkward at first, but his self-preservation instincts must have kicked in because before he knew it, there were rocks underneath his feet. Squinting out across the water, it looked like they'd come quite a distance from the shore. It was the adrenaline, it had to be. Breathing heavily, Edward dragged the increasingly heavy body to the pebble-lined dirt. Just to be safe, he made sure there were a good couple of feet between them and the lapping water.
Batman was—by some miracle—breathing, if even a bit abnormally. It didn't matter. If he didn't need CPR, it wasn't really Edward's problem. Now that they were both certifiably alive, he sat down for a moment in the sand both to catch his breath and contemplate his next move. His obligation was filled. Batman was at no immediate risk of death. They were alone; Edward still held the power. He could drag the body back to his lair, rouse the other man, then kill him. He could dangle him from the highest skyscraper, drape him over the steps of the children's library then turn him to Swiss cheese. The possibilities were nearly endless. But no, that wasn't part of the fun. That was child's play, that wasn't even HARD.
How long were we down there? It'd only been early evening, a time in which commuters still ruled the bridge. Edward looked down at his watch to find that it'd been broken, perhaps waterlogged. There were no cracks but the screen still read 22:20. Useless junk. He'd been given it as a gift, a long time ago. I'd be better off building one myself.
Edward looked down at the still-unconscious body, giving it a nudge with his foot. Out of everything he'd studied, anatomy was one of the few subjects he'd never given particular attention to. It seemed like the vigilante had been out for a long time. Is that normal? He hadn't a device to look it up. It better not be a coma. He thought bitterly. In that case, he'd be neither the man that killed the bat, nor would he have a fair opportunity to do so. And he'd always be reminded that he'd had the chance to do so, and didn't take it. This worrying was cut short when a sharp cough came from the stiff form, causing Edward to jump to his feet. Thoughts of being tired were greatly outweighed by the threat of getting caught again, which drove him back up towards the road. Batman would be fine. Someone would find him, or he'd make his own way back to civilization. Either way, the two would have the chance to square off again.
The shores were untouched by the same artificial lighting that lined the streets of the city. Even the road was dimmed, unnaturally quiet. Of course it would be that the one time Edward needed to flag down a motorist there were no cars to be found. He stood there on the road, contemplating his next move. Once the police were alerted of the crash they'd be on the lookout and that would make navigating the city frustratingly complicated. There was only one way back from this side, and that was to cross the bridge. And if the authorities had already been notified (questionable, seeing the QUALITY of the first responders there) then everything would be blocked off. However, Edward also didn't fancy wandering around the road until either finding a ride or neighboring city.
Edward dragged his feet all the way to the base of the bridge, staring across the empty road to the city on the other side. He'd been wrong before; Gotham looked glorious this time of night. Even the starless orange sky seemed endearing. The view was only slightly soured by the thoughts that pounded on his tired mind.
What have I done?
How many associates would've KILLED for that same opportunity? Edward still stood by his reasoning but he couldn't help but feel a bit disheartened. HE was the one who'd held Batman's life in the balance. And so HE was the one that'd take the insults for a while. Let them try. It wasn't as if their pitiful attempts at injury would mean anything to him, but he'd still have to sit through it.
Where is everyone?
He'd seen the bridge empty before, but even then only for a minute or two. He'd almost reached the middle of the span and there was still no ride to hitch. Nor was there so much as one flash or red and blue lights; where were the police? Hadn't SOMEONE seen them go over? Did they not care? Not that Edward could blame them, but it was all just… off. Maybe someone else was stirring up trouble elsewhere, maybe the commuters had all just decided to go home early. Maybe his luck for the night had just already run dry.
The road vibrated then, a low hum indicating an approaching vehicle. Turning back towards the shore from which he'd come, Edward saw headlights speeding in his direction. Finally. Hopefully he looked better than he felt; not even charm could make a hitchhiker convincing when he appeared a soggy mess. But then again, this was Gotham. That was almost a standard fashion. He made his way to the median, hoping lateral movement would catch the attention of the driver. Although Edward attempted to flag down the oncoming car, it showed no signs of slowing. He was the only thing even on the bridge so he knew he would have been fairly visible; were they… ignoring him? Surely they wouldn't dare. Edward tried to stand his ground but, as he didn't fancy any tibial fractures, he actually had to take a step back to ensure his own safety. The car went whizzing by, driver(s) shadowed by tinted glass. Reckless moron. Who did they think they were? Edward glanced towards the dark shore for a moment, hoping to spot another city-bound vehicle. Not finding anything of interest, he turned back toward the city. A brilliant light filled Edward's vision. It was only a fraction of a second later that he realized the source of the luminescence, but that was a fraction of a second too late. The oncoming car was so close, almost upon him; he could almost just touch the—
Edward's head collides with the dashboard in front of him, momentarily dazing him. He's slow to pick himself off the covered controls, only too aware of the look the driver is giving him. Disoriented, Edward is speechless. They're in the car on the bridge, having just swerved around the man in the street but not having gone off the railing.
"You should've been wearing your seatbelt."
"Save it." Edward shoots back, earning himself a questioning gaze. He isn't really known for unimaginative responses or for ignoring insults, but he isn't in the mood. There's too much else to think about. One good thing. Edward settles himself back against the seat and glares out his window, desperate not to let either his burning face show or dripping nose show. He's almost certainly earned himself a broken nose this time around, but he can't argue against deserving it. I do one good thing and look at where that gets me. Figures. It hadn't been a 'good deed', not in the true sense of the word. He had never set out to save the other man's life, especially not out of some convoluted, selfless sense of good-nature. No, it'd been self-serving. As most things were. And now it looked like… like it'd never even happened. A dream, he supposes.
But maybe it wasn't all for nothing. Hmm.
Batman parks the Batmobile off on the shoulder of the bridge to check in with the man who'd been attempting to cross the bridge. Usually, Edward would be straining to hear the exchanged words. Now, however, it doesn't even matter. The idiot deserved to have been splattered on the pavement after pulling a stunt like that. Who just walked across incoming traffic like that? Some people…
Edward closes his eyes, leaning back into the seat although the handcuffs dig into his back and his ankles are strained against the locks. None of that matters at the moment. Everything that happened before he'd bloodied his nose replays in his mind; the impact with the barrier, floating over the waters, seeing the vigilante slumped lifeless in the driver's seat, the immediate panic at realizing the car was submerged, and the frantic racing as he'd formulated a way to escape. What an event.
It was all too good to let go to waste. Obtaining the Batmobile is now a secondary goal to a new objective, and that's to send Batman back over the edge of the bridge, this time as a consequence of failing to solve a scheme that still needs hatching. Now that he's experienced the situation, Edward feels he's the perfect candidate to lay out the rules of the game. No belts (of any kind—seat, waist, or otherwise), no life-saving devices, just a man trapped in a car under the cold Gotham waters. He'd like to see the vigilante escape THAT. Of course, there would have to be some other controlled aspects to it… some tests of intelligence rather than just a match of strength and self-preservation. It's a start. And it's going to be perfect. It might take a while to iron out the details, but Edward is on his way to a place where he'll have all sorts of time to himself. By the time he's on his own again, he'll be ready to strike. Edward has to fight to keep the excitement from oozing out and giving anything away. The vigilante doesn't suspect a thing.
Batman gets back into the car, not offering so much as a word about what had happened. Now that he's excited, the curiosity has returned and it takes everything Edward has not to ask. It doesn't matter. Just keep a low profile. The Batmobile starts, flawlessly easing over the remainder of the bridge and onto the next stretch of road. The silence is tolerable, if only for a couple of minutes.
There's only one thing about the event that Edward shoves to the back of his mind, and that's the question that he can't answer. That is: he doesn't remember falling asleep.
Edward's nose isn't gushing blood, so maybe it isn't broken after all. He uses his shoulder to wipe away the trail on his upper lip.
The clock on the dashboard turns to 22:21.
A/N: Thanks for reading! This is my first fic of this fandom so any and all feedback would be much appreciated!
I had an Edward in mind when I wrote this but I wasn't sure if I could get the characterization right (I haven't really consumed much of the media-movies included-yet) so I did try to keep it fairly generic-Riddler. There are some hints here and there but hopefully the plot doesn't suffer for it :') And I know the 'was it real or was it?' ending is a bit trite but I'm a sucker for that kind of mystery.