A/N: OK, so. I took another look at Every Good Riddle and absolutely despised it, so I decided to rewrite it. I actually have a plan and stuff now, so hopefully it'll be better this time around. I kept a lot of the scenes I liked, but also changed a lot of things and added some stuff. I hope you like it more this time around; I probably will.
Chapter One
A Riddle in Arkham
The blood red sky sat over a quiet Gotham City. The only sound breaking the silence was the sound of sirens in the new industrial district as the police responded to a breaking-and-entering call. The Arkham Asylum van pulled up outside the same building, from which sounds of a struggle could be heard. Minutes later the Batman and his sidekick, Robin, appeared in the doorway, dragging a dazed, nearly unconscious Riddler.
"Good work." James Gordon strode up to the vigilante as the officers took Riddler and loaded him into the Arkham van.
"All in a days work, Commish." Robin replied with a grin. James Gordon smiled at him.
"Riddler was attempting to steal some highly technical—and valuable—parts." Batman explained. "Most likely for use in some sort of hacking system." Commissioner Gordon nodded.
"I'll make note of that in the report." he replied, turning towards the men strapping Riddler in to the van. "OK, boys, take 'im away." One of the guards nodded.
"Back to Arkham for this psycho."
Janice Michaels stared out the window in the staff lounge at Arkham. It was dirty and run down, but usable, and more importantly, it had a coffee machine. It was her first day as a psychologist at Arkham, and she was feeling rather nervous. After all, she'd never been a psychologist before—she had a PHD, but she'd never actually been in the field.
"Mrs. Michaels?"
The woman, with her dark brown hair, Mexican complexion, and emerald green eyes, looked up at the much older man standing above her. He was grizzled with age, his skin wrinkled and dry like paper, his hair almost completely fallen out with age. He smiled at her, many of his teeth missing.
"Ms. Michaels, and yes." she replied with a smile. He extended a shaking hand to her, the veins prominent against its back. She shook it.
"I'm Dr. Argus Tulley, the new head psychologist here at Arkham Asylum." he explained.
"Oh, you're the replacement for that Hugo Strange guy, right?" she asked. He nodded.
"Sort of a tragedy, really." he said. "Hugo Strange was a renowned and talented psychologist, and it saddens me that he was so easily pushed to madness. But that doesn't matter right now." he said. "It's your first day, correct?" he asked. She nodded.
"I'm a bit nervous, actually." she admitted. "You see, I've never actually done this before—I just got my degree." He smiled another toothless smile and chuckled dryly.
"We've all been there before, my dear. You just have to have confidence in yourself." he replied. "And most importantly, learn from your mistakes. As a great man once said—"
"Hey, look! They're bringing in the Riddler!"
Everyone jumped out of their seats and ran to the window when the man exclaimed this. Outside, two orderly's were taking Riddler out of the van and bringing him into the building. The psychologist's all started murmuring to one another, as though worried about something. Tulley sighed.
"This may be a problem." he said, pinching the ridge of his nose, where small, round spectacles were perched. She looked at him inquisitively. "Riddler's last psychologist quit, and it's always hard to find new ones for him. He goes through almost as many as Joker." Janice smiled.
"If you don't mind, sir, I'd like to try my hand at it." she said. He looked at her in surprise. "I've always been intrigued by extreme personalities. It's why I became a psychologist. And you don't get much more extreme than one of Gotham City's most notorious super-villains."
"I suppose you don't." he said. He sighed. "Well, if you're sure you want to...then I suppose I can let you try."
"Thank you, sir." she said. Tulley smiled at her again and then hobbled past her, heading to oversee Riddler's arrival. Several of the other psychologist's came up to her.
"If you're going to be working with Riddler, keep on your toes." said one, a tall, gangly man with wide rimmed glasses and a serious overbite problem. "And try and ignore all of his snappy comments. He doesn't like psychologist's very much."
"Thanks, but I think I'll be fine." Janice replied with a smile. "I'm used to dealing with a lot of people who don't like me." What she was reluctant to mention was that she had met all of them while working her 42 previous jobs, all of which she had been fired from because of her terrible temper. But she had worked long and hard to get her degree, she wasn't about to let a little thing like that get in her way of being a top-notch psychologist. The man looked at his colleagues and chuckled.
"Whatever you say, Ms. Whatever you say."
Riddler groaned as light spilled into the room, burning the back of his eyelids a bloody red. He squeezed them shut tighter and put his pillow over his head, trying to block out the light.
"Up 'n at 'em, Riddler." said one of the many orderly's assigned to him, holding open the door. "You've got a session with the psychologist." Riddler hissed.
"I don't need a psychologist." he complained, burying his head deeper beneath the pillow. He heard the orderly sigh as he entered the room, using a spare block of wood to keep the door open.
"Yeah, yeah, I know, but Tulley says you have to go." the orderly said. He came over to the bed and pulled back the covers, causing Riddler to shiver as the cold, damp air of Arkham Asylum found his pale skin. He groped around to grab them again, but the orderly pulled them off of the bed and deposited them on the ground beside it. He sat up to try and grab them again, but the orderly pulled him to his feet.
"There'll be time to sleep later." he said.
"I'd rather sleep now." he replied, blinking to clear the foggy film over his eyes. The orderly didn't even respond, instead just rolling his eyes. He put a hand on his shoulder and lead him out of the room, down the hallway and towards a wing he had never been to before. It was lined with small rooms, each containing a single table and two chairs. Only a few of them seemed to be occupied by psychologist's and inmates. The orderly brought him to one of the open rooms and sat him down at the chair facing the door. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs and handcuffed him to the chair. Riddler looked at the chains inquisitively. "If I was really determined, do you honestly think these little toys could stop me?" he asked with a chuckle.
"Again, it's just protocol." the orderly replied. "Now, just sit tight while I go get the psychologist." he said, turning on his heel and striding out of the room. Riddler leaned back in his chair, allowing it to balance precariously on two legs, and stared at the wall. Not five minutes later, a young woman entered the room. She looked to be about his age, with dark brown hair and emerald eyes, tanned skin and a crisp, clean lab coat draped over her curvaceous, athletic frame. She had a pen tucked over her ear and a notebook under her arm, and sat down across from him.
"Edward Nigma?"
He turned towards her, eyes drooping tiredly, eyebrows drawn together in an angry frown.
"Riddler." he corrected. She smiled at him, showing off identical rows of pearly teeth, as straight as rows of tombstones.
"Riddler it is, then." she replied. She opened her notebook, a flimsy spiral thing like one would expect to see an elementary school student carrying, and wrote something at the top of the first page. He snorted in disdain as he turned away again, directing his attention back to the brick wall. A newbie. How insulting. "So, did you sleep well?" she asked. His only reply was another snort, one of laughter this time. How could anyone sleep well in a place like this? She watched him expectantly, waiting for an answer, but he merely curled his free hand into a fist, rested his elbow on the armrest, and rested his chin on his fist, still staring at the wall. With the hand attached to the chair, he drummed gently on the armrest.
When she woman realized her small-talk tactic wasn't working, she slid down slightly in her chair, relaxing her confident, official pose.
"I'm Janice Michaels." she said. "Dr. Tulley assigned me to be your new psychologist. I—"
"Are you supposed to be some sort of joke?" he asked, sighing in exasperation. She looked at him in confusion. "Because you're clearly not a psychologist."
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the woman's hand curl into a fist around the edge of the table, he knuckles turning white. Her mouth was closed, but he could tell her jaw was clenched in anger. He managed to avoid smirking smugly. It wouldn't be long before she lost her temper, possibly even quit. She clearly wasn't suited for a job at Arkham is she wasn't able to control herself.
"Well, I guess you're kind of right. After all, this is my first day." she replied. He turned his head and rested his cheek against his fist so he was facing her.
"That's fairly obvious." he replied. Her fist clenched even tighter, and he could tell that her finely manicured nails were leaving indents in the wooden table. He briefly considered telling her that she'd get splinters doing that but decided against it. She smiled at him, but it was clearly forced.
"So, Riddler, why don't you tell me more about yourself? How did you end up here?" she asked. He turned back towards the wall.
"I'm sure you watch the news. Go and find out for yourself." he replied. Her stiff smile became a frown, and she closed her eyes. He watched her mouth the numbers one through ten, clearly trying to keep her temper under control.
"Well, what I meant was, how did you become a villain?" she asked through clenched teeth. He stopped drumming on the armrest, and his hand clenched into a fist. His teeth came together with a sharp click as he closed his mouth. After a minute or so, Janice cleared her throat. "Well, I, uh, guess that must be really hard to talk about, so, um—"
"Not really. I just don't think you deserve an answer." He cut her off, relaxing his fist. Janice clenched her own with a growl.
"And why is that?" she asked, raising her voice. He covered his mouth with his fist to hide his grin of triumph.
"You haven't done anything to prove to me that you do." he replied. The chair was pushed back with a sickening screech as she stood and leaned across the table, glaring at him. He met her glare with his own cold stare. "You know, we could sit here having a staring contest all day, or you could admit that we're not getting anywhere and we can actually get something done today."
With a yell of anger, Janice jumped out of her chair, grabbed her notebook, and turned on her heel, storming out of the room. Riddler didn't bother hiding his smug grin as the orderly entered the room, holding a key.
"Geeze, she left here in a hurry. What did you say to her, anyways?" he asked, unlocking the handcuffs. Riddler rotated his sore wrist as he stood.
"Nothing at all, really." he replied. "I was just myself." The orderly sighed.
"Well then, back to your room, Riddler." he said. Riddler closed his eyes and frowned.
Oh well. It was better than this psychologist nonsense.
Janice stormed through the halls, snarling and growling like a demon straight out of Hell. Her session with Riddler had been a complete disaster. She could easily see why so many psychologist's had been driven to quit by the villainous maniac. He was a truly infuriating man.
Completely blinded by anger, she bumped right into Dr. Tulley, causing him to drop the many books he was carrying.
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I wasn't paying attention." she apologized, helping him to pick up the books.
"It's no problem, my dear. It happens to the best of us." he replied, taking the stack of books as she stood and handed them to him. "How was your first session with Riddler?" In reply, Janice hissed. "That well, huh?"
"He makes me so mad." she replied, leaning against the wall, gently repeatedly hitting her head against the bricks. "He has no manners, no respect, and he's just—just—augh!" She cried out in frustration and suddenly clenched her fists, accidentally breaking the pen in her grasp. She gasped as small slivers of plastic were embedded in her palm, and started picking them out, leaving tiny red pin-pricks where she pulled them from. Tulley frowned.
"I see. Well, it's no surprise." he said with a sigh. "All of the psychologist's who try and treat Riddler encounter the same problem. They end up either quitting or asking to be assigned to a new case." She snorted.
"I can see why." she said, growling.
"You know, if you want to be assigned to a new case, I'll understand." Tulley said. "After all, you are knew to this business." Janice laughed.
"And give that psychopath the satisfaction of having run me off? I don't think so." she replied. "And besides, I don't like to leave things unfinished. I'll just have to put up with his obnoxiousness." The look on his face was both one of relief and worry.
"Well, if you're sure...but if it gets to be too much, don't hesitate to tell me." he said. "I would hate to have to see such a bright young woman quit because of a maniac like Riddler." She turned to him and smiled.
"Don't worry about me, Dr. Tulley. I've always been good with handling myself in that regard." she lied. Honestly, she'd never been very good at handling herself.
But Tulley didn't need to know that.
Riddler hissed as the blankets were pulled off of him, and made to strike whoever was there, but was met with the sight of his usual orderly.
"Morning, Riddler." he said, with a smile too bright and cheery for whatever ungodly hour of the morning it happened to be. "Time to get up. You've got a psychology session, bright and early as usual." Riddler looked at him in confusion. How could that be? Hadn't he chased the woman, Janice Michaels, away?
He got his answer when the orderly brought him down the same hallway and into one of the rooms, and sitting in the chair closest to the door, was Janice. She looked up at him as the orderly brought him around and once again handcuffed him to the chair.
"Good morning, Riddler." she said, sounding annoying bubbly and perky. He cursed at how the entire world seemed to be more of a morning person than him. "Are you in a better mood today?" she asked as the orderly left the room.
"It depends on what you mean by a better mood." he replied groggily, leaning back in his chair and squeezing his eyes shut against the blinding fluorescent lights.
"Well, are you going to bite my head off today?" she asked. He tilted his head up and narrowed his eyes angrily at her.
"Are you going to be as idiotic as you were yesterday?" he asked in turn. Her anger was only apparent for a moment before her smile returned, forced and contrived, but still a smile.
"Well, we'll just see. Anyways, let's get right to it today." she said, pulling out her notebook and what he noticed was a different pen. He also happened to notice the red dots on her palm, remnants of small, pin-prick-like injuries. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
"Hurt yourself, did you?" he noted. She looked up at him.
"Hm?" She looked down at her hand. "Oh. That. It's nothing. Had an accident with my pen." she explained. He rolled his eyes.
"Oh, that's smart of you." he said. She looked back at him and glowered. He grinned smugly. "Now now, don't lose your temper, Dr. Michaels." With an angry sigh, she opened her notebook, pulled the cap off of the pen, and wrote something beneath her notes from the day before. Riddler tried to see what she was writing, but her handwriting was too small for him to read from across the table. "What could you possibly have to write about so early in the session?" he asked. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow in a skeptical manner.
"I don't think you deserve an answer." she replied sarcastically. He snarled at having his own comment turned on him. "And for your information, I have a lot to write about. After all, I'm supposed to be analyzing our conversations for use in treating your unstable mentality." He rolled his eyes.
"My mind is as well as yours." he replied. She chuckled.
"Yes, of course, Riddler. That's why you go around trying to conquer the city and putting millions of lives in danger." she said mockingly.
"Everyone tries to conquer the city. Some just have more dramatic ways of doing it." he said, staring off into space once again. She looked at him oddly.
"Believe what you want." she said, writing something else in her book. "Anyways, let's cut the crap and get to the question segment. Are you feeling any more cooperative today?" she asked, locking her fingers, placing her elbows firmly on the table, and leaning on her hands.
"Not particularly." he replied, leaning further back in his seat. "But I guess it depends on what you're asking. Will you just be asking me more menial questions about myself?" he asked. She narrowed her eyes at him.
"They aren't menial, they're very integral to figuring out how to help you." she said. It was Riddler's turn to narrow his eyes.
"I don't need help." he replied. "Not any help that you could give me, anyways." He turned away from her again, once again staring at the wall. She gritted her teeth in anger and squeezed her pen tightly, though stopped when she irritated the little pinpricks on her hand.
"Look, just answer the questions and make things easier for both of us, OK?" she asked, setting the pen down on the table and scratching the irritated injuries.
"How will it make things any easier for me?" he asked, sighing. "I'll still be stuck in here. Why should I help you?" She narrowed her eyes at him again.
"Do you have any compassion at all?" she asked. He snorted.
"Asking a man labeled a homicidal maniac if he has any compassion. That's a new one on me." he said. She growled at him.
"You're a bastard, do you know that?" she asked with a snarl. He chuckled.
"I've been called worse, Dr. Michaels. But is that really a nice thing to be saying to your patient?" he asked sarcastically. The chair made another high pitched squealing noise as she jumped out of it again, once again grabbing her notebook. As she turned towards the door she looked back at him.
"I can't tell if you're a maniac or not, but you're definitely an asshole." she spat, slamming the door behind her. Seconds later the orderly came in and unlocked his handcuffs, helping him to his feet.
"You really should stop doing that." he said. "One of these days she's just going to deck you." Riddler snorted.
"She doesn't have the guts."
Janice threw herself into one of the chairs in the staff lounge. She grabbed her purse and opened it, fishing for her handy bottle of headache medicine. She took two out of the bottle and swallowed them dry, ignoring the lump in her throat that followed. Why had she volunteered to be Riddler's psychologist? And more importantly, why had she decided to stay his psychologist? Everything about him was so infuriating. His smug attitude, his complete lack of respect, just...everything.
But she was definitely making progress. She had managed to stay with him for a lot longer today, and she hadn't lost her temper nearly as quickly. It seemed that being Riddler's psychologist was something that one grew accustomed to over time, and she was fairly sure that she would be able to crack the surly exterior and find out what really made him tick, so long as she was careful to control herself. After all, she didn't want a repeat of the many incidents that had happened before. She liked working at Arkham.
She wasn't going to let her explosive, violent personality get in the way of that.
Sessions continued for about a week.
Janice slowly grew more and more accustomed to working with Riddler, learning to take all of his snarky comments and backhanded insults in stride. He was bitchy, she learned, and it was best just to accept that and move on, because it clearly wasn't going to change any time soon. Sometimes he even answered her questions, though it seemed to be more out of exasperation than any real growing trust. She started truly enjoying treating Riddler, even if it infuriated her a lot.
Riddler, on the other hand, wasn't quite as content. Over the 9 day period that he knew her, Janice Michaels had become more and more of a thorn in his side. He didn't want or need the help she was trying to force on him, and it made him all the more angry that she never seemed to get that message. She would always be sitting there waiting for him, smiling warmly, with her little notebook and little pen, waiting to jot down every mannerism. Not only was it annoying, but it made him feel like a rat in a maze.
One day, as she sat there, prim and prissy, mumbling (mostly) to herself and writing down every time he so much as twitched, he finally got fed up.
"Do you even realize how abysmally annoying you are?" he asked, pinching the ridge of his nose. She looked up from her notes suddenly, his insult not yet registering. "All you do is sit there all day and study me like I'm some sort of experiment, and then you have the nerve to call me inhuman. No, not only is is annoying, it's hypocritical, and there isn't a sole on this Earth who likes a hypocrite." he said.
Before he even realized what was happening, Janice jumped out of her chair, and punched him in the face.
He cried out and he and the chair were both sent to the floor, still attached by wrist and armrest. He saw stars in front of his eyes, and it took a moment for them to disappear, at which point the pain sank in, and he reached up and tenderly felt his nose, which he was certain was now broken. He tasted blood as it streamed from his nose and into his mouth, and he reached up and pressed against the bottom of his nose, ignoring the pain in order to stop the flow of blood. He could hear Janice screaming at him, and then heard the sound of the orderly bursting into the room and yelling at her, presumably when he saw his dazed form on the floor. More orderlies came into the room and her voice slowly drifted away as she seemed to be dragged off. The other orderly came over to him and undid his handcuffs.
"You okay?" he asked. Riddler didn't reply, knowing that anything he said at the moment would probably be heard as a nasal mess. The orderly pressed a tissue to his nose lightly, trying not to hurt him. He then pulled his arm around his shoulders and helped him to his feet, instructing him to keep the tissue to his nose. "Don't worry, I'll get you to the medical wing and they'll get you all fixed up." he promised. Riddler merely nodded in reply.
Janice lingered hesitantly at the door to Dr. Tulley's office. She raised a fist to knock, but dropped her hand unsurely. She wasn't entire sure that she wanted to hear what Tulley had to say. After all, he hadn't sounded incredibly pleased when he had called her on her cell phone, presumably after hearing about the event with Riddler. She was about to turn and walk away when a stiff, official sounding 'come in' came from the office. With a groan she opened the door and stepped inside.
"Uh...hello, sir." she said meekly. Tulley was seated at his desk, sitting up straighter than he'd ever seen him sit, and looking very, very angry. He motioned for her to sit in the seat in front of his desk. Shyly, she shuffled forwards, and sat in the chair.
"I heard about what happened this morning." he said, sounding very displeased. She gulped and smiled unsurely.
"Um...about that, sir..."
"Save it, Ms. Michaels." he said, pinching the ridge of his nose. "Whatever you're going to say, I don't want to hear it. No matter what Riddler said or did, you had absolutely no right to inflict any sort of injury on him. That is why I didn't want you to continue working with Riddler. I knew something like this would happen."
"And I am truly sorry for it, sir. I'll keep my temper under control from now on." she said. He glared at her.
"From now on? Janice, I like you. You're a very intelligent young woman and you're clearly very dedicated. But after what happened today, I simply cannot allow you to continue working here." he said. "If this were ever to reach the press, it would be disastrous. I'm afraid I'm going to have to fire you."
The reaction was instantaneous.
Janice leaped out of her chair with a screech, slamming on the desk so hard that it caused things to fall off of it.
"You can't do this to me!" she screamed, purposely knocking things off of the desk. "I need this job! How else will I be able to pay the rent?" she yelled.
"You are completely out of order here, Ms. Michaels!" Tulley yelled, standing. "Somebody get this woman out of here!" An orderly burst into the room and grabbed Janice from behind. "Anything left in this building that belongs to you will be sent to your apartment, Ms. Michaels, so don't feel obligated to return." Tulley said, picking things up off of the floor. Janice hissed as the man dragged her out of the room.
Minutes later, the orderly tossed her outside. It was starting to rain.
"Have a good night, Ms. Michaels." the orderly said, closing the doors on her.
She yelled at the building, constructing as many creative curses as she could possibly think of, before running off.
When she got back to her apartment building, Janice ran up the stairs, too angry and impatient to wait for the elevator, screaming as she went. She burst into her apartment, kicking in the door and shattering the lock, not even bothering to dig for her key. She slammed her table, reducing it to splinters. She then ran into her bedroom and practically ripped off her lab coat.
Throwing open her dresser, she dug through her clothing, and pulled out a green tank top and a pair of black jeans. She pulled them on and stormed over to her floor-length mirror to examine herself.
Her hair was messy, completely forgotten in her rage, and her face was contorted in a horrible scowl.
"There's no way I'm just letting this go." she hissed. "Arkham Asylum hasn't seen the last of me. If Riddler can do it, so can I." She looked at the green and black outfit. "Question Mark. That's what I'll call myself. And Tulley will regret ever even considering firing me."