Edward Nygma prided himself on his own memory. Photographic and able to retain decades of important information, he could recall any bit of essential and factual evidence he needed. The Riddler could recite the full names and disorders of each and every inmate within Arkham's walls— every notable inmate, anyways. He was able to easily come back to formulas and equations he had written month before when needed. He could repeat every single riddle he had ever given the Batman without fail, and having been in this business for quite a while, it was no small feat. He found it essential to be able to recall over three hundred digits in pi; many call this skill useless, but he only saw it as a testament to his superior mind.
The Riddler was proud of his memory, even if it did have its more unfortunate consequences. Every single one of his humiliating failures was still etched into his mind, unable to be erased. He could visually remember the hardened glower that appeared at the end of each ruined scheme. The feeling of ribs breaking and pain-filled nights at the asylum weren't very easily forgotten.
Was it mentioned that he could also remember the feel of fabric? Well it's true, which is why he always testified to wearing his more comfortable outfits; it was a harsh contrast to the tight-fitting suits the girls wore, or perhaps the uncomfortable feel of metal or burlap. He knew clothing well, as there were many times where he's had close encounters with these villains. Many villains wore gloves, whether it be for business or pleasure. Catwoman's clawed fingers had sunk into him many times, while he had been given numerous thrashings by the smooth and cold gauntlets of the Dark Knight. He preferred the snug feeling of the Mad Hatter's dinner gloves around his wrist when he was tugged along rather than the coarse feel of the more aggressive Scarecrow's hands. The rubber gloves that were wrapped around his throat were not so easily forgotten, either. He could still vividly recall their red color as they reached for him. They were warm and disgustingly wet, staining his skin and clothes with the dark crimson one could only find in blood; filthy blood that dripped from his cut and smeared messily onto the table below him.
"Mr. Riddler?"
The voice on the radio snapped Nygma from his thoughts. Raising his head with a start to look at the communication device, he internally grimaced to himself as he rubbed tired eyes with balls of his wrist. Usually he would be angered at the thought of anyone interrupting his thought process, but in the past few months, he was thankful for any distraction he could get.
Clearing his throat, he pressed down on the button of the home-made device to respond. "Yes, Stat?" he answered, raising his voice to its usual confident tone. "I'm working on a few improvements right now. What must you vex me with this time." There was a pause on the other end, before the female voice gave a reply. "I've retrieved the layout of the warehouse you wanted."
Riddler smiled softly, glad that some progress was being made today. "Good," he replied. "Get me the names of any property owners, as well as the building's previous uses." The paid informant on the other end gave a confirming "mmhmm". Keys were heard typing, before she came back to give more information. "It also appears that Catwoman is heading your way," Stat told him, to which he just nodded to himself. "She's expected," he replied, before sighing to himself. "Hopefully the meatheads I keep around won't give her much trouble." With that, he took his finger off the button and went sat back in his seat. On the table were scribbles of equations and future plans that he had, many of them crossed out or erased out of existence. He took a moment and rubbed his temples as he tried to collect himself. "You're fine," he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes. "This is just like any other visit. Just make the deal and get her to leave."
After the small pep talk to himself, he stood up confidently, grabbed his cane, and marched out of the work area. The programmed door slid open for him with ease, shutting quietly once he was out of range. Unnecessary some would call it, but there was a bit of a comfort to having his own personal touch to everything in his base.
He passed by heaps of scrapped ideas in the form of metal junk. He had been working on them lately, but after realizing that nothing really seemed to fit into place, he tossed them aside to use for later plots, should his current one fail, which he doubted it would. Moving through his lair, he saw one or two of the thugs he had hired just relaxing about and talking with each other. Usually he would get onto them for lazing about and wasting potential, but he would let it slide this time. After all, they hadn't really been doing much lately, aside from retrieving a few tools he needed.
Upon exiting the back door, he wasn't surprised to see Catwoman sitting cross-legged on one of the fences that bordered the building. She was looking down, unimpressed by the catcalling (yes he sees the opportunity for jokes and he will politely ignore it) from one of his hired hands. He was one of the more beefier brutes, lugging around an assault weapon as if it were some toy a child would drag behind him. He knew the man had a name, but he considered that information to be unworthy of space in his brain.
Selina perked up upon seeing Riddler shut the door behind him, promptly hopping down from her perch and strolling over to him. The henchmen she had been previously listening to was left without being able to finish his pick-up. "Eddie," she greeted, giving a ghost of a smile. "It's about time you showed up. I almost thought you were dead," she chuckled, crossing her arms.
"Worried about me, are you?" Riddler smirked, twirling he cane skillfully in his hand for a brief moment. "More like worried I wasn't going to get extra work," she scoffed, cocking her hip. "I can easily hire more help if needed," he told her, challenging her sass. "Uh huh, and who else do you know who can get all the random junk you need from places as secure as the bank?" she smiled. He gave her a knowing smirk in return. "Many people," he answered, to which she peered over at him as she lifted her goggles to the top of her head. "And do it successfully?" she emphasized. Riddler shut his mouth, deciding to let her win this one. After all, he didn't want to let someone like Catwoman walk out of his plans right now.
As Selina continued to mess with the goggles perched neatly on her head costumed head, she seemed to notice a glaring feature she hadn't seen before. He was quick to realize this, covering up his neck with a quick pop of the collar. Selina still saw the mark, though, as it wasn't exactly easy to hide. "No one's heard from you in three months. Apparently Firefly's been trying to get in contact for a few weeks." She gestured to his neck, stepping forward. "Is that why?"
Riddler felt the sudden weight of self-consciousness hit him as his thumb traced the new scar that ran from his his collarbone to the underside of his chin. It had taken months for the wound to close at this point, and he was hoping that with time it would disappear completely. "It's just a scratch, Cat," he replied stiffly, looking away. "You might know of it, since you seem to do a lot of scratching yourself." The confident tone he usually boasted had melted away to a stilted murmur.
"Looks like more than just a scratch, Ed," Catwoman replied. "Not to mention you look like shit. You got roughed up, huh? Lemme guess; was it Harv? Sounds like some mob-type thing he'd-"
"It doesn't concern you, Selina," Edward interrupted, wanting to cut off the conversation before it brought back the memories he'd rather not relive right now. "All that matters is that I have money and you're willing to get me what I require, yes?"
Cat rolled her eyes. It's not like she cared anyways. "Yeah, sure. So what's on the agenda for tonight?" she inquired. "Wayne Enterprises? A quick visit to Penguin's? Ooh, I haven't done a research lab in a while."
Riddler paused and dug out a slip of paper from his pocket. While the handwriting scrawled across was neat and perfect as usual, the paper itself was crumpled into a small ball. She took it, quirking a brow as she carefully unraveled it with those claws of hers. "Just a few data chips from Wayne Enterprises and several supplies from the Mad Hatter," he informed her. "I would send a few thugs over, but unfortunately, they don't really ever come back without me asking," he informed her.
Catwoman blinked, looking over the things she needed to get, as well as her offered payment scribbles across the top. Wayne Enterprises was a bit of a tough nut to crack, but it wasn't anything she hadn't done before. Not to mention the pay would be worth the effort. As for the Mad Hatter, she knew it wouldn't be too hard; given his rather care-free and distracted nature, Jervis was pretty easy to steal from. She wouldn't even have to ask for anything. He wouldn't notice if a few of his things went missing. Still, something was on her mind.
"Why don't you go and ask him yourself?" she questioned, stuffing the note into the crevice of her suit. Riddler raised his eyebrows in slight surprise at the question, giving a slight "hmm?"
"Hatter," she clarified. "Aren't you two friends or something? Or don't you at least work together sometimes?" Nygma visibly grimaced at the questioning, firmly shaking his head. "No, that won't work," he explained, thankful for his own gifted improvisation skills. "We've had a bit of a falling out recently. Like I said, there have been problems with my henchmen going over there. It would be much simpler if you just do what you do best and get back so I can enact the plot that will finally dupe the Batman."
Catwoman merely shrugged and flexed those slender fingers of hers, looking back over at the fence. "Whatever you say, Eddie." Before she left, however, she took a quick look back at the Riddler, who had turned to go back inside the building. She noticed the still-healing scar along his throat and smirked. He reached a hand over and gave it a quick little flick. "Or should I say Scarf-"
Nygma's reaction was immediate as he reeled back from the playful touch as if her claws were made of smoldering charcoal. Her own hand jerked back in slight surprise as she noticed the wide-eyed panic now clearly scrawled across his visage. While she found it amusing to see such a tight ass like the Riddler get the wits scared out of him, she was bewildered more than anything. Her brow furrowed, she took another step forward to reach out to him again. She was attempting to get another reaction, and she got it in the form of the curve of the question mark cane planted squarely on her chest. Riddler stepped back rather hastily, attempting to regain his composure as he kept the cane pointed at her. "Let's keep our interaction at an arm's length distance," he suggested. "I mean, we wouldn't want any accidents, would we? Fair enough?"
Selina didn't need to say anything in return. She could already see the beads of sweat from the man who looks ready to crumble into dust. Deciding to make better use of her time, she merely shrugged and turned to leave. "Like always, Eddie, you never fail to weird me out."
With that, she leaped up and over the fence, walking off into the night. Riddler was left under the dim light of his lair's back door, watching as she left. He let out a silent groan, rapping his knuckles against his temple to curse his own reflexes. He promptly went back inside, now just wanting to be alone.
"So what's this all about?"
"What d'you mean?"
Edward stopped just as he had entered the door, hearing the ongoing conversation in the other room. His glasses were beginning to slide down his nose, but he was quick to adjust them as he continued to listen in.
"I ain't seen the boss leave that fuckin' room in three months."
"Well, yeah, mostly 'cause he's asleep or something. You don't got the day shift. That's when he's always working on the riddle contraption things."
"Okay, yeah, but what's with all the seclusion. I thought he said he was gonna defeat the bat three months ago or somethin'."
"Oh shit, you don't know? Get with the times, my friend."
"Eh, what can I say? My wife got off maternity leave. Had to stay home for a month or so. So spit it out. What's up?"
"Sit down, my friend. Boy have I got a story to tell you."
Riddler immediately felt sick to his stomach. He didn't enjoy these stories of him being tossed around like campfire tales.
"Okay okay, so one night, the boss comes in-"
The green-clad villain stepped into the room, arms crossed as he confronted the two thugs that sat lazily in one of the base's many rooms. His presence was noticed immediately by the two, who quickly shut their mouths as soon as he was in sight. Silence overtook the room as both parties seemed to wait for the other to make a move.
"What are you imbeciles doing?" he sneered, watching one of them flinch and quickly grab his weapon to make it appear he was taking his job seriously. With a roll of his eyes, he turned away. "Catwoman should return later tonight with my things. Inform me when she's returned." He looked back at them for a moment. "And no slacking off."
As the Riddler began to walk away, he felt a bead of confidence begin to well up within him once again. The incident with Catwoman was just a fluke; he was still the Riddler after all. If he wasn't the mastermind the underworld knew him as, he would merely be a common criminal.
Still, he couldn't help but feel that bead shrink away when he stopped and listened in once again. He could still hear them whispering.
"I heard Batman was there."
"Oh yeah. He was there alright."
"Why didn't he arrest the boss or anything? Y'know, beat him up and take him to jail like he always does?"
"Well, he had to take him to the hospital first."
