Disclaimer: Batman does not belong to me. I make no profit from this. Batman created by Bob Kane with Bill Finger.
Author's Note: I intended for this to be scarier and darker than it actually is, but, eh, things happen.
"Edward...what are you afraid of?"
It is not the first time Jonathan has asked this question and it will not be the last unless he's gets an answer better than "cockroaches in my socks."
"Jonathan, I told you, cockroaches in my-"
"No," Jonathan says, sitting up, "what do you really fear?"
"If you want to know so badly, Dr. Crane," Edward replies haughtily, rolling over and covering himself with the sheet, "I think you can find out on your own."
Jonathan smirked. He knew a challenge when he heard one.
"So, you're one-hundred percent sure that you want me to do this? I may be a 'heartless criminal,' Edward, but I do like to keep my friends."
Jonathan's lab is cold; dark; and there's a device kept somewhere in one of the cabinets that plays a recording of rats scurrying on loop.
"Jonathan, if I was going to say no, I would have. A thousand times over. And then I would have left and you would have scared the safe number out of two Gotham Bank guards just to bring me back."
"True."
Jonathan holds a mask in his hands, a pump in the other, monitoring the machine.
"I think...yes, I think this is right. All right, Edward, this is going to be unpleasant. Extremely unpleasant."
"Jonathan, I'm not one of your hostages, just get one with it."
Jonathan sighs, and stalks toward Edward in his usual way.
"I suppose you won't let me wear the mask, just for effect?"
Edward opens his mouth to retort one last time just as everything is eclipsed.
He's on the street. A crowd is gathered around him. In front of him is a table, stacked with oddities and curiosities; knick-knacks from all over, and people, as the masses are wont to do, staring in awe.
"Mr. Nygma?" A little boy, no older than five.
"Yes?"
"What does this one do?" He asks, pointing to an ball floating above a stand.
"Oh, this one, well..."
And Edward's eyes are sparkling as he dazzles the people with these strange tales of even stranger objects and what they area and how they came into existence.
It works, for a while. He's enjoying it, the feeling of being the smartest person in the room and everyone looking up to him in almost a...god-like manner.
And then he shows up. Draped in a black cloak, with the hood covering his head. He walks with determination, with arrogance, that unsettles Edward, makes him stumble backwards in horror.
In fear.
"This man," he speaks with a voice that seems to surround Edward, coming from all directions, "is a fraud."
And he reaches his hand out to Edward's table of knick-knacks, of curiosities and oddities, and strange things with even stranger tales, and rips away the cloth, sending everything up into the air.
"You're a fraud," he says again, stepping forward with such malice, until Edward is too close to run, "and I'm going to make sure the whole world knows it."
"...think that's enough, Edward. Your heart rate's getting too high."
Edward's eyes fly open and he breathes in harshly, yanking the mask off of his face dazedly.
"So, did you learn anything, Jonathan?"
"Nothing I wasn't already expecting, Edward. Tea?
Edward gets up from the stretcher with shaky legs, almost falling before being caught by Jonathan.
"Careful there, Riddler. Wouldn't want you injuring yourself before our next great heist."