To see a police car outside the gates of Arkham Asylum was never a rarity. The institute had become more akin to a prison than a psychiatric institute in the last few years. The city of Gotham attributed this, of course, to the arrival of Batman. His quest to rid the city of the crime that was synonymous with its name had backfired terribly. Like a virus, the criminals Batman beat only returned, stronger and in greater numbers, and most of all, more lethal. Edward Nygma had always laughed at the notion that "The Bat-Man" having even a chance to win his one-man war.
Tonight, however, the joke was on him. Bruised and defeated, the Riddler sat restlessly in the back of this squad car. As he was a slender, lanky man, and in any case not particularly prone to violence, the driver saw no need for sirens. In fact, after what every policeman in the city had been through that night, the quiet drive to the Asylum was a godsend for Officer Nolan Preston, even with a domestic terrorist sitting just behind him. Obviously, the Riddler didn't look the part, but Preston and a few officers nearly died navigating the trap-laden building where he had spent the night with a bunch of computers, tracking Batman. Preston and the other men had been up all night "defusing" bombs full of marzipan and kittens, and since nobody on the force would dare touch the Joker, the officers had decided to instead let off steam by collectively beating Riddler into submission. Preston himself delivered a blow with his nightstick to the back of his head, even though the Riddler was already reduced to sniveling madly on the floor.
Now at ease, he regretted the brutality. For four years, he prided himself on avoiding the corruption within the Gotham Police Department. He looked from his rearview mirror- Edward's nose was probably broken, his purple-tinted glasses completely shattered. His bowler hat was off, revealing some blood staining his faded, orange hair. He had since regained consciousness, but for once, the Riddler remained absolutely silent, no expression in his dull, slightly red eyes. He stared through the screen, through the windshield into the woods leading up to Arkham. Preston decided that he would give Commisioner Gordon his two weeks notice that Friday.
Officer Preston and Riddler were well aware of the chaos that had occured at Arkham Asylum, but both of them had yet to see the reality of it. Edward's blank expression was gone. At five in the morning, the asylum was bustling, but not with life. The place was always somber, but tonight, hundreds of men and women were occupied with carting off bodies, both dead and unconscious. Gurneys wheeled madly around- some into the back of ambulances, and some back into Arkham's medical facility. Grotesque plants were littered around the grounds. The statue of Warden Sharp lied in pieces on the ground, and in the distance, some firemen were still extinguishing the front of the Visitor Center. The car stopped with a slight jolt, and Riddler was suddenly taken by two of the asylum guards. Nobody said a word to Preston. Before he turned the car around, he caught a glimpse of a body bag, which had only been partially closed in the haste to get it out. Inside the bag was Officer Frank Boles. Preston recognized the drunk bastard who threatened his family once, after he had overheard a very incriminating phone call. Still, the horrid, green smile plastered on his face would haunt his dreams for a week or so after the drive.
Nolan Preston's two weeks notice was on Gordon's desk the next morning.