"Why hello there... Bruce Wayne! Hahaha! A noble effort, Batman! But did you really believe, that I - the Riddler - would fall for such a nakedly implausible charade? You expect me to accept that I have been bested - time and agonizing time again - by some spoiled, trust-fund fueled hobbyist? I don't believe it! Why, I-I refuse to believe it! It's. Not. True. Now, Batman, where were we?"
The news had hit the GCPD just like everywhere else – Crane had seen to that. The big, dramatic unmasking. After the shitstorm that had been Halloween, much of the criminal element had been expunged from Gotham's streets – all of the big name convicts had certainly been rounded up, thanks to Batman. So it was with a somewhat vindictive glee that the imprisoned psychos tuned into Crane's broadcast. Sure, the "Master of Fear" was a right bastard for unleashing that Cloudburst gas so unexpectedly, but his transgressions could be at least temporarily overlooked, because Scarecrow had accomplished the one thing that no one had been able to pull off in all the years the Bat had plagued Gotham.
Scarecrow had beaten the Batman.
And he wasn't even stopping there – no, no, no. Every time someone they had thought they'd beaten the masked vigilante, he'd been able to make some sort of unbelievable comeback. Not tonight. Tonight, the Batman's identity would finally be revealed! And with that stripped away from him, any future battles would be so much easier. They would have a name. An address. List of family members, friends, associates. It would all laid bare in a single moment.
Poetically, Scarecrow was forcing Gordon to do the honors. The police commissioner was pretty high up there on many a villain's shit list for being the uncompromising enforcer of the law that he was. But for the moment, nobody cared about the commissioner. Not a single crook from the bottom of the barrel to the top of the pecking order.
Riddler in particular was anxious about this long overdue reveal. Unlike the uncouth, filthy degenerates he shared a cell with, he had a working theory on who Batman was. He'd worked it out long ago – it was so obvious. In truth, it didn't quite matter who Batman was; what mattered was that he was a simple, run-of-the-mill Joe. An ordinary employee who got up to nightly shenanigans that were ultimately illegal and criminal.
He was no different from them. Riddler knew this. Everybody else was satisfied that Gordon was doing it because they personally didn't like the self-righteous man; but Nigma was vindictive because he figured out long ago that Batman bribed him with the money other criminals had stolen to maintain his "hobby" – if you can call it that. What a fitting end to an unsavory, under-the-table partnership.
That's what Riddler thought. That's what he was thinking as he smiled so smugly and smarmily, even in that dingy prison cell with his fellow rogue's gallery, as Gordon pressed a pair of buttons on the back of Batman's mask, releasing the upper portion of it. Finally, his hypothesis would be proven. At last, his fellow Gothamites would realize their folly. He had been right all along – Riddler could already hear those idiotic psychiatrists crawling back to him on their knees, their faces so pitiful.
And then Gordon stepped away from Batman, giving the camera a clear picture of the former masked vigilante's face.
"WHAT?!" Riddler bellowed, his voice devoid of that confidence he'd once had.
Riddler was still pacing what little space he had available to him even long after the other rogues had regained their bearings. They accepted the somewhat anticlimactic reveal at face value… pun not intended. But not Riddler; he could not accept this. No. No. No. This made no sense. Bruce Wayne was the one to overcome all of his riddles through the years? Bruce Wayne was the one to deliver all of those unwarranted brutal beatings, destroy so many of his Riddlerbots (and other pieces of machinery), and interrogate all of his informants?
No. It was impossible. When you're a billionaire playboy living in the laps of luxury, you don't give a rat's ass about some petty bank robbers. You wouldn't risk your life against cutthroat murders, sociopaths, and psychos – certainly not for all the years Batman's been around. You throw your money around to make problems go away. You put up a friendly, charitable front while hoarding most of the wealth for yourself.
You do not invest in expensive toys and dress like a bat. No, Riddler was not having this. He already had a multitude of theories swimming around in his head. "Batman" was unmasked and revealed to be Bruce Wayne. That's what the rest of the world saw. But not Edward Nigma. Why in the world would Batman throw in the towel so easily, even if it was to save his young ward and the police commissioner? The answer: He didn't. No one is that selfless. No one knows Batman's true identity, so he enlisted the help of a billionaire playboy – perhaps he even coerced Wayne into doing this, the bastard – to fool Scarecrow and the rest of Gotham into thinking his identity was revealed.
That way, he could keep his shameful identity and pretend to save the day. Or have Wayne do it to keep up the charade. And everyone in Gotham was clearly eating that up.
"I knew there was a deeper reason I didn't like Wayne…" Cobblepot grumbled as he watched Wayne break out of his bindings with the help of an unknown sniper. They'd all watched Crane pump him full of that fear toxin, which resulted in the most bizarre freak-out of all time.
And then out of nowhere, the guy seemed to develop a sudden immunity and promptly beat Scarecrow once and for all. Admittedly, they all felt quite vindictive about Crane getting a dose of his own medicine… pun intended.
But Riddler latched onto the Penguin's comment. He made a slightly frantic gesture as he motioned to the screen that everyone was glued to. A screen that cut off when Crane clumsily backed into the camera in his frightened state, but no more was needed to be seen, truth to tell.
"You believe this, Cobblepot? It's clearly an elaborate ruse!"
The Penguin sighed exasperatedly as he slightly turned his head to face Nigma.
"Nigma, you're such a smartass and you can't put two and two together 'ere?" The midget gestured at their cell and their fellow rogues. "Look around! You think some random blighter did all this? Fought a whole damn war in one night by 'imself? The guy's got training. Connections. Money. If any of his li'l fancy gadgets were actually obtained with lifted money, we'd o' heard of it by now. Somebody would've, anyway. This guy went through the proper channels – or was possibly receiving help from the government. Of course it was Bruce Bloody Wayne."
Riddler shook his head in a sad, disappointed fashion. Why was he even bothering to try to make such an unsophisticated mind see the obvious truth?
"Mark my words. If one of us actually manages to kill Bruce Wayne, Batman will still be around! Perhaps he'll try working under a different alias… make us think a different vigilante will rise up. But I will not be fooled! Only I, Edward Nigma, have the capacity to end the Batman. No one else!"
The Penguin ran a hand over his bald cranium and snorted derisively.
"You just stay away from Wayne. He's mine." And with that, Cobblepot grumpily cut off whatever discussion they were having. Evidently, the midget still had some disdain for him.
No matter. Edward didn't need to treat Cobblepot as an ally anymore. The status quo was restored now that they were all locked up and Batman was still alive. Edward could go back to designing new puzzles for his next run-in with Batman. The real Batman, mind you. Edward didn't care if everyone was fooled by that tough guy act that Wayne put on for the camera.
He was no Batman.
The news of Wayne Manor being blown to smithereens along with Bruce Wayne and his faithful butler was just as quick to reach GCPD. It got all the inmates and rogues talking animatedly once again, speculating about just who it was that took Batman out. The police turned to them all first for questioning, obviously. Only problem was, no one was admitting to their crime despite the high honor (among criminals) associated with it.
But Riddler knew better. None of this was their doing. No. He'd been right from the beginning. Bruce Wayne was not Batman. The real Batman had obviously taken the distraction Wayne had provided to rig the mansion to explode when Wayne returned home. For what purpose? The answer: To silence Wayne.
"Riddle me this," Riddler smirked when the interrogator brought him in for questioning. His smug countenance was back full force. "What's homicidal and black all over? The answer… Batman."
Author's Note: Riddler received mixed reviews in Arkham Knight, but honestly, I personally liked him for the most part. I liked quite a few of his lines, so I just felt like portraying the end of the game from his perspective. Turned out to be mostly introspective, but I think I got his characterization across okay.
… Let me know if it's crap, though. This'll probably be the only piece I write for this series, if only because I'm not that acquainted with the comics. But I hope you enjoyed this a little. ^^