Batman: Portait

Indiana

Characters: Riddler, Scarecrow

Synopsis: A one-shot based on the thought that one could write a first-person fanfic about Riddler spraypainting a portrait of Jeremiah Arkham if one wanted.

I vowed never again to make a bet with Jonathan.

You see, I was in a bit of a pickle: I had lost the aforementioned bet (though he rigged it from the beginning, as I should have expected!) and his price was a portrait of Jeremiah Arkham. Now I'm obviously no slouch with a pencil, though I specialise more in blueprints and diagrams then objets d'art. Unfortunately, I was not using one of those. I only had a can of spray paint. To paint a portrait with. Of a man whose face I was vaguely familiar with. I had no idea why Jonathan wanted me to do this, but... well, let's say it was one of our friendlier bets.

Hopefully the quality of the work didn't really matter. As I said, I'm not totally familiar with Dr Arkham's face - I try to avoid him where possible, he's crazier than many of the people he's supposed to be treating are - so I wasn't sure whether it was a reasonable likeness or not. I stepped back and squinted at it. Jonathan came up behind me and crossed his arms.

"Well?" I asked. I wanted to forget about this as soon as possible.

"It's beautiful," he answered.

"Really?"

"God, no. It's the ugliest thing I've ever seen." And, probably to add insult to injury (the jerk), he laughed. He actually laughed at me.

"I did my best!" I protested, insulted. Okay, it wasn't museum-quality - or even comparable to portraiture you might find in a graffiti-sprayed skateboard park, really - but how could it truly be that bad?

"Maybe if you'd deign to use a different colour. It's so bright I can barely see it."

Now I folded my arms across my chest. "You know I only work in green. And sometimes very, very greenish white."

He was altogether far too amused by this turn of events. He looked like he was going to laugh at me again. "Variety is the spice of life, my friend. Surely you knew that."

"Of course I did. You've seen it. Can I spray over it now?" I was going to do it anyway. Keeping it hadn't been part of the bet, and I would fight him on that though I might find myself an unwilling participant for one of his experiments later on.

"Already? Don't you want everyone to see what a fantastic artist you are?"

"Not if this is their introduction to my talents, no." I waved at him to move back so he didn't have to inhale the spray, though he didn't move. He'd probably inhaled so many chemicals in his life that aerosol paint didn't bother him anymore.

"You're right. You should stick to doodling Batmobile designs. When are you planning on sending those to him, by the way? I think you have enough by now to send him a pretty nice batch -"

I might have lost control of the can at that point and gotten some paint on the ground. "I do not doodle Batmobiles!"

"You're right. Meticulously design Batmobiles in excruciating detail is a better description."

"Okay, maybe, sometimes, on very rare occasions, I might, just might mind you, might have cause to - "

"Just send them to him already and get it over with. Maybe he'll offer you a job. The Riddler working for the Bat, what a thought..."

I put the cap back on the near-empty can of paint and glared at him. Someone would be asking me about the glaringly green wall eventually, but right now I didn't care. "I don't want to hear about that - or this bet - ever again."

He held up his hands in mock alarm. "Oh no. I'm terrified. What ever are you going to do to me, Edward? Tell me a riddle, maybe? I feel so very threatened. I might have to go hide under the bed."

I needed to set up another bet pronto just so I could live this down. And I probably wouldn't anyway.

"Let's just go on with our lives and forget this ever happened."

"If you insist." And he actually seemed like he was going to do it, since he was quiet as we went upstairs, but then:

"That really was the ugliest thing I've ever seen."

"Jonathan!"