"All accusations against Bruce Wayne have been dropped," Vicki Vale paused for a moment, "Instead, Roxanne Sutton, otherwise known as Roxy Rocket, has been accused of murder. She used to be a stunt double for a Hollywood actress. It's believed that after she was fired she began to work for Oswald Cobblepot, more commonly known as The Penguin."

Shar smiled softly seeing that her friend was no longer in trouble with the law…Well, his real identity anyways. She turned off the television and turned back to her current roommate. His breathing was steady and a few bandages were wrapped around his head.

"Thank goodness you're not in a coma again," Shar sighed a breath of relief. "Still, not exactly how I wanted my birthday to end."

The door to the hospital room opened. It was a nurse, a slightly overweight one at that. She notified Shar that the visiting hours were over and if anything should happen that the hospital would call her. Shar was the only one on Edward's emergency contact list. He couldn't rely on any of the rogues anymore – not that he did in the first place.

Shar walked out of the hospital. The air was crisp and nipped at her nose. The nipping turned it red and her cheeks flushed as well. Her hands dug through her purse as she grabbed her keys and inserted them into the lock. Her door opened with ease.

Meanwhile, in the same hospital room Shar was just in, a hand started to spasm. Muttering escaped a man's lips. His crazed words were scrambled and would make no sense to anyone else listening in. Sweat started to trickle down his face. His hands gripped onto the sheets tightly. It was no doubt that his mind had begun to awake out of its slumber.

The man's eyes opened. As if nothing happened the man was calm – too calm in fact. Slowly, he sat up in the hospital bed. He glanced over noticing his clothes were neatly folded. On top of his clothes was his noteworthy bowler hat. Though, probably the most iconic thing in the room was the question mark cane, leaning proudly against the wall.

A sly smirk managed to work itself onto the Riddler's face as he began to disrobe. Within a few moments he placed his normal clothes on. His hand rested on his cane and he gave it a few test swings. Perfect. Everything was perfect in his mind.

"It seems my mind was disrupted for a while," He mused to himself. "In most situations I would be…Unsatisfied. Though, it seems that everything has worked itself out. I couldn't have planned it better myself."

With that the man arrogantly strolled out of the hospital room of which he was placed in. The receptionist desk was in view. He shifted his cane up and tapped the desk with it. The receptionist looked up – she was peeved.

"May I help you?" A southern drawl came out of her fat lips.

"Yes, I, Edward Nygma, would like to check out of this hospital," He now leaned over the counter. "I'm sure that wouldn't be a problem, even for the likes of you."

"Excuse me?" She questioned. Her pitch was exceptionally higher. There was no doubt that this woman, with a messy bun for hair, was offended. "Mister Nygma, you have to get a doctor's note to be discharged from the hospital. Now until a doctor sees you you'll have to stay here; unless of course you want me to get security."

"Oh, threatened by a bunch of brutes," Nygma rolled his eyes. "Like that hasn't happened to me before." His tone now grew most grave, "Now listen, I'm sure that even with someone with brains like yours you can comprehend what I am capable of doing. I will leave this hospital right now, and you won't have anything against it. Do I make myself clear?"

"You're not the Riddler anymore; don't try acting like a rogue."

"And how can you be so rue?" The Riddler smirked. "Having a bump on the head can bring up so many wonderful memories. I remember when The Batman broke my legs and carried me around for hours. I remember when The Joker killed one of his little birds. I remember everything. And I remember how to kill."

The woman at the desk gulped and backed away. A small nod indicated that Edward was free to go. The Riddler smirked at his ingenious plan and strolled happily out of the hospital. A whistle – of an unfamiliar tune – sounded as he carelessly swung his cane in a circle.

"Now let's go see my little henchgirl," The Riddler hailed down a taxi in the crowded streets of Gotham City and made his way to the apartment.

Shar typed up on her computer. She had a recent report to fill out for Harleen Quinzell, or Harley…Everyone calls her Harley. A sighed escaped her lips and she rubbed the temples on her forehead. Harley has been acting happier than usual. Ever since her Mistah Jay died she hasn't been bubbly. But recently…Recently it seems like something wonderful happened. Shar couldn't figure out what happened…She wasn't sure whether she should be happy for Harley…or scared about what may be to come.

Shar reached towards her radio she received from Tim. Should she even bother trying to contact him? After all, if Harley was planning something the bat family should know about it. Just as Shar was pressing the button to contact them, a knock sounded on the door.

Shar's eyes glanced at the time. It was a tad late for visitors. She gulped to herself. Her dog was sleeping by her feet, so if anything happened at least he could wake up. Shar stood up and put a hand in her pants pocket for a weapon that she held on her. She peaked through the peep hole.

Quickly, she unlocked the door and swung it open. A smile was evident as she tackled the person in front of her into a hug. After stumbling back she dragged the person into her apartment and forced him to sit down.

"You're out of the hospital?" Her eyes examined him. "How are you feeling?"

Edward watched her and he held in a sadistic smirk, "Better than I have ever felt before."