Back! New chapter which introduces a new perspective from the cops. The cop Stewart will play a big role in the future. ANYWAY! Thank you to Ariddle-Ascare and bobbinbird for the reviews! They really do make all the difference in making my day! So enjoy this new chapter!

K

"What have we got Stewart?" Gordon asked walking into the house, if you could really call it that. The new cop almost dropped his pen and paper in surprise.

An attractive man if he didn't look utterly confused, "Sorry sir! I haven't seen the crime scene yet."

Gordon sighed, "Neighbours reported what they thought were screams. Patrol outside said it's like nothing they've ever seen."

"What took so long for them to get here?" Stewart questioned looking over some notes, "Says here that they came about an hour after the call."

Gordon gave out what was a mix between a sigh and a laugh, "I know you're new here Stewart but you should know why."

"Oh right, Joker's trial," Stewart acknowledged, "How'd that turn out?"

"Just like we expected, he's being sent to Arkham," Gordon flicked on the light switch leading to the basement. "Hard to not plea insanity when you dress up like a clown."

When they reached the basement, Gordon put his hands on his hips and turned away, "God damn it."

Stewart put his hands to his lips, his face turning pale. Gordon noticed and waved his hand telling to get out before he puked all over the crime scene. All Gordon could think was there was another sick fuck in the city.

What was leftover of a body was lying across a board, Gordon pulled plastic gloves onto his hands dipping his hand into what appeared to be green dripping liquid out of the "body". He rubbed it between his fingers and brought it up to nose, the familiar copper smell filled his nose. Definitely blood.

Pressing his clean hand to his head, this wasn't good. Bits of the body lay on the ground, fingers, toes, an arm, ears, eyes, everything. Lying on the table was a butchered head and torso. It was sick, from experience Gordon knew they were dealing with either a psychopath or this was all personal. More likely both were involved.

What was up with the green blood? Was it a clue? Something to ask the forensic unit later. He pulled out his flashlight looking for clues in the darkness. He found a trail green blood, following it he came to a wall. He looked up.

"What in the name of…?" was all he could say as his jaw dropped.

Gordon slammed down the beige file on the large table with 3 detectives and a couple cops. It had been almost two weeks since the green blooded murder but he had to break the news now, "I know this is nothing any of us want to hear, especially with the recent capture of Joker."

The cops looked interested now, almost afraid, "We may have another psychopath on the loose in Gotham." He pressed a button on a remote and the room darkened and the projector turned on. Revealing pictured of the butchered green body. There was a murmur of conversations as the cops began mumbling to each other.

Gordon cleared his throat again getting their attention, "Greg Darcy was found dead in his house, butchered. His limbs had been cut off, it appears he had been tied down and tortured."

"Darcy? That sounds familiar," one detective pointed out.

Nodding Gordon went on, "Yes, his daughter was found dead after the whole mess with Joker and his ferries. It appears she was killed by thugs. Or what Mr. Darcy claims. We were a bit busy so the whole ordeal wasn't looked at properly. However I want you," he pointed at a blonde detective, "Mills look into it. This could be the gang trying to get rid of a witness. I have my doubts though due to this next evidence."

"Wait! Why is his blood green?" another detective asked.

"Oh yah, I almost forgot. Autopsy report stated that Mr. Darcy was taking Sumatriptan, which is prescribed by doctors for severe migraines. However there is no medical record of Mr. Darcy taking them. There appears to be no use drug wise to take them. We don't know if Mr. Darcy was taking them willingly or being forced them," Gordon went on. "The autopsy report states cause of death was blood loss, no surprise there. Davis I want you to work on what was used to kill him and figure out why someone was giving him Sumatriptan or why he was taking it."

"Onto the final piece of this odd puzzle, this," Gordon switched to another photo, "As you can see written in Greg Darcy's blood on the wall is 'I hold the future, strong, and bright. Some daft and stupid, but I keep them in the right.' We have no idea what it means," Gordon sighed.

"It's a riddle!"

Everyone turned to look at Stewart who shrunk back at all the looks, but Gordon pushed him on, "Go on."

"Well, I used to read riddles as a kid. They usually rhyme and ask a question," Stewart went on.

Gordon nodded, "Ok, he wrote a riddle."

"Well the answer could be a clue."

"Alright, what's the answer?"

Stewart gave an embarrassed smile, "I was never good at riddles."

Gordon shook his head, "So the suspect tortures and kills a guy with green blood and then writes a riddle on the wall with the victim's blood? God this town gets crazier and crazier." He sighed sitting in his chair.

"Calling all back up," Gordon's radio suddenly squawked, "Gas attack on Eastern Gotham High School, requesting all units."

Stewart gave Gordon an odd look, "School… That's it!" he yelled suddenly. "What holds the future? Kids right! They're our future! Some are smart, some are, well dumb, and school is supposed keeps kids on the right track right!" One cop muttered "sometimes" at the last comment but everyone ignored him.

Gordon looked back at the riddle and then Stewart, "You're right." He grabbed his walkie-talkie, "Be aware gas attack on high school may be a psychopathic murderer, proceed with caution." He turned back to the other policemen, "I've got a bad feeling about this."

5 Hours Earlier

Edward still couldn't sleep, for a couple of days the images of Ink and Sister's deaths were pushed out by the feeling of joy for revenge. It had been so satisfying to cut off that man's fingers one by one. His screams were almost like music to his ears. All he could think of was each one of those fingers feeling up his own daughter.

However Edward didn't understand he had lost something in that room when that monster had died. His innocence.

The killing weighed heavily on his mind and unlike he thought, it did not bring full satisfaction. He could only stay awake feeling guilty, and dirty. He felt wrong and broken but at the same time right and satisfied. But all Edward could remember was the joy and happiness when the man had listened to him and followed his rules. He was blissful showing this man how stupid he was, and how smart Edward, no, Riddler was.

He had to do it again.

Two weeks he spent planning his next moves, making everything was perfect. Choosing new targets, building new machines. He bought the drugs he needed and programed the proper codes needed to work. He covered his tracks, he figured out the riddles, and made sure he could never be found. Everything was ready. It all needed to be perfect

Edward walked around the open room looking out the window at the city. He grabbed his jacket and goggles, stuffing them in his school bag. Time to get to work.

The bell signalling the beginning of classes for the day rang and the students filed one by one into the school. They slid their pass keys into the machine that acknowledged they were at school. A swipe and then an iris scan, Gotham East High was on top of the list for schools of the future. They were the test school, the equipment donated from Wayne Industries.

After school that day was some sort of pep rally, and the students being so dedicated to school spirit were all there. It helped that the periods were cut in half. Unknown to them Edward was making sure all students were present.

The second bell rang, signifying you better be in class now or else you were late. Usually there few students scrambled to reach their classes, strangely many students were trying to make it into class a few seconds after the bell. Edward had changed the bell to ring one minute ahead of schedule to make sure people were rushing into class.

This way no one was paying attention to the TV in the corner of the room, or new pipes and boxes pushed into the high ceilings. Or the new camera in a different corner taking in a view of the 30 classrooms that had students in them.

But every student noticed when the doors locked automatically, which was only programed during lockdowns of the school. And then the TV flickered on revealing the face of Edward Nashton leering at them.