"Okay, okay, here's one," the Riddler spoke up after the few minutes of silence. He seemed to sit up straighter, despite the gun pointed at him and the ropes that tied him to the chair. "Though useless when received by the foreigner, I travel around the world, but stay in one corner. What am I?"

Rocky sat back, playing with the barrel of the shotgun a bit as he thought for a moment. His brow furrowed in light confusion as he searched for the answer, much to Nygma's delight. Still, the henchman took several blind stabs in the dark, and decent ones at that, before giving up. "Alright alright, what is it?" he asked, just as the other was getting ready to gloat.

"A stamp. It's rather simple," Riddler boasted. "Even a child could solve it, really. Perhaps Scarecrow should hire children instead of the usual smooth-brains that he usually employs."

Rocky quirked a brow. He had been called several intellectually insulting names throughout the day and in the past, but that was a new one. "Smooth-brains?" he puzzled. Riddler gave a dramatic sigh as he slumped in his bindings. "I suppose I have to explain everything, don't I?" he muttered, before taking in a deep inhale. "Some species of animals, most famously koalas, have such underdeveloped intellectual abilities that their brains are-"

"You know what?" Rocky interrupted, shutting his eyes and waving a hand up. "Never mind. I don't really wanna know."

"Of course your kind isn't interested," he replied after the usual scoff. "That's why minds like mine and somewhat lesser intellectuals such as Crane or Fries do all the thinking. Even light-hearted banter proves to be too much for people to keep up." The underling grimaced as he took a hand to rub the tiredness from his eyes. "Geeze, I've heard you were conceited, but I always thought it was over-exaggerated until now," he muttered.

"Conceited? Ha! I'm surprised you even know the word," Riddler spat, sitting back in his seat. "You're just intimidated by superior intellect."

"Well… you're smart, I'll give you that," Rocky shrugged, not sure how he was supposed to answer. Yes, he was offended, but this was the Riddler he was dealing with; he though everyone was an idiot, so Rocky didn't take it too personally. "Smart?" Nygma huffed, almost sounding offended at the compliment. The henchman quickly found he error of his ways and gave an apologetic ghost of a smile. "Understatement?" he chuckled. Riddler only looked away in annoyance, though he seemed to have given flexing his intelligence a rest for now. However, he still needed to get one last word out there. "Of the century."

"Okay, I got one," Rocky spoke as he thought of a riddle, taking his mind off of the villain's haughtiness. "So, I make you weak, but I also make you strong when you need me. I-"

"No rhyme?" Riddler interrupted, not exactly annoyed, but just judgmental enough to get Rocky to forget what he was trying to say. "Does it have to rhyme?" he asked with a light groan, playing with the barrel of his shotgun. "Do I need to teach you about aesthetic," the villain scoffed, to which the henchman returned a confused look. "I wouldn't think you were into aesthetics," he retorted, to which Riddler truly became annoyed. "Well, it seems that you're just about as cognizant as you are brilliant Haven't you noticed that everything I wear or use is green and with question marks you absolute dullard?"

"Yeah, and haven't you noticed I have a shotgun pointed at you?"

Rocky's attention was caught by his phone ringing in his pocket. He blinked and picked it up. "That's probably the boss," he muttered. Riddler didn't seem too pleased about it, his shoulders slumping. "I suppose he's going to ask you to gas me now, hmm?" he sighed as the man across from him answered the call and put it on speaker. The henchman thought for a second, before giving him a look that clearly read "yeeeaah, probably." Riddler looked absolutely miserable. "Yeah Mister Scarecrow, sir?" Rocky answered in his gruff voice, waiting for the inevitable order to be rid of the captured villain.

A tired sigh rang out from the other end, the thin voice on the other end confirming that it was indeed his boss. "Rockwell. Is Nygma still alive?" Jonathan spoke, his voice keeping its usual firm a dignified frame, but it was clear he was exhausted. "Uh, yeah, he is," Rocky replied, pointing the weapon in the direction of the man as he gave him a passing look. "I'm looking at him right now. What's up?"

The good doctor paused in his answer, letting out another exhale. Riddler cleared his throat, being prepared to negotiate his life with the sadist.

"Let him go," Jonathan clipped.

"What?" Rocky asked.

"What?" Ridder sputtered.

"What?" came a familiar English voice from the other end.

"What?" Crane questioned.

"Well, uh… nothing," Rocky shrugged, getting up and putting down the phone and shotgun. "So you want me to gas him or something, Mister Scarecrow, sir, or…?"

"No need," Crane replied softly. "I'll be returning in a maximum of three days should there be no interruptions, so I'd rather you be more focused on keeping more dangerous intruders out. Nearly dying and having a shotgun pointed at him for over twelve hours is fine enough punishment. I'm sure he's well afraid of the consequences should he cross me again."

Nygma opened his mouth to dispute it, but Rocky shot him a warning look as he untied him. The mastermind took a moment to consider what would happened if he really told the Scarecrow he wasn't scared of him; he then promptly shut his mouth, rubbing his arms and trying to restore blood flow once the bindings were off. He stood up, grabbing his hat that had been carelessly thrown to the side. "Well while I'm surprised by your change of heart, I suppose I can't be angry," he huffed, grabbing his cane as well and placing the staff firmly on the ground. "I must venture back to my own lair."

"Just don't pull a stunt like that around the likes of me again," Jonathan warned, to which Riddler only chuckled in response. "Oh Crane, I knew you weren't going to kill me this whole time," he countered with a cocky grin any man could feel from over the phone. "Even if you're not on my intellectual plane, I know you're not dumb enough to kill me and waste future opportunities of defeating the bat!"

The phone was silent for a moment. "Rockwell, put the phone off speaker and give it to him." Rocky shrugged and picked up the device, handing it over to Riddler, who quirked a brow in light confusion as he brought the phone up to his ear, walking over to pick up his cane. He paused, however, when he heard the strain in Jonathan's voice, sounding almost tight and with the tired weight behind it more obvious when off speaker. He clearly heard Jervis say something aside to him that Crane took a moment to listen to. Edward felt his lips tighten into a thin frown at it, always feeling unsatisfied whenever there was a bit of information he still didn't know; a piece of the puzzle that was missing, and right now this puzzle was missing half the damn box.

"Nygma," he breathed, "I could tell you right now that you are the most insufferable, useless, arrogant, and worthless man I have ever met, with no value or contribution to this plane of existence, nor any of our lives, and if I had my underling kill you right now, no one would notice, nor would they care."

Edward stared forward, unsure of even what to respond with. While sure, he had been insulted before, never had it really been from someone who had literally nearly killed him hours before. Anger sparked within him as he clenched the phone in his hand. He should just burn Scarecrow's precious lair to the ground for even daring to speak to him like this, as if he was some common criminal and not someone who had nearly duped and finished the Batman on numerous occasions. Speaking to him as if he was nothing. Looking to the side as he internally seethed, he pulled the phone away and prepared to hang up.

"However…"

He paused, slowly bringing the phone back to his ear. While he was enraged beyond comprehensible words, he wouldn't be able to go back not knowing what Jonathan had left to say. Crane always knew how to string him along to keep on listening. Call it OCD as most do, but he just needed to know. "However?"

Jonathan took a deep breath on the other end. He could hear Jervis' English accent say something incomprehensible before Crane continued.

"However, I would be lying."

Nygma blinked, his brow furrowed. "This is one of your psychological tricks, isn't it? A poor attempt at reverse psychology, perhaps?" he accused. "Or is it that you're just ill?"

"Nygma, in this risky business we're entwined in, it's hard to come across those you actually trust," he continued, "and though you are, at times, insufferable and your obsessions can lead to catastrophe after catastrophe, you are one of the best to work with and one of my few preferred choices of company. We've worked together on very few occasions, but in the time that we've known each other, I've felt that you are one of only a few people that I can trust, which is why it causes me unfathomable rage to know that we're even having this conversation whilst you're in my lair. If your knowledge-driven OCD is so intolerable that you have to break into my base to get some answers, you honestly could have just asked me. Even if you don't have my number, I know you're smart enough to somehow get in contact with me. Through some negotiations, I most likely would have given you your answers. So, with that said, I am putting trust in you by letting you go this time with a warning. You are genuinely one of the most intellectually refined people I've met, so don't be an imbecile and betray my trust, or so help me god I will personally lobotomize you, and don't test me; you know I know just where to hit."

Riddler was silent for a moment. He never suspected Jonathan Crane of all people to speak like this to him. Still, he was backtracking to try and take in everything he had just heard. "Could you repeat that last bit again? About me and my intellect?"

"You owe me, Nygma."

With that, the call ended. Edward stared at the wall for a moment, before pulling the phone away and tossing it over his shoulder, where Rocky luckily caught it before it hit the ground. "I believe it's about the right time for me to get going. Bats to catch and whatnot. I'm sure you know," he said, keeping his voice casual and upbeat in tone. He thought for a moment, before bending down and picking up his cane. He felt sick just being here now. He grimaced to himself over his own sensitivity at that moment. He was about to head towards the door and just leave, but he stopped to look over at Scarecrow's henchman. "He's not dying is he?" he queried, to which Rocky cautiously shook his head. "Not that I know of," he answered slowly, taking time to think about that question. "Why?"

"Well, right now I'm trying to find all the pieces to the puzzle, and I think Scarecrow's just broke my fingers so I can't grab the pieces," he muttered under his breath before heading out of the lair.

"Well that was generous of you, throwing such comments in there when you didn't need to," Jervis hummed, tapping he steering wheel as he continued to drive down the freeway. "I don't believe I've ever heard you compliment someone in that manner before. Usually they're paired with thinly veiled threats." He let out a soft yawn, being sure to cover up his mouth politely. "You called him one of the smartest people you've met for the Red Queen's sake."

"I didn't say he was street smart. The man needs a good ego boost every now and then," Jonathan sighed, resting back against the cushion of the stolen car. "It's essential for individuals to receive outside encouragement and mental stimulation in order to sustain a better attitude. It's called reciprocity; he leaves my base alone and in return I praise his intellect. Not to mention you talked me into the entire thing."

Tetch tossed him a look with pursed lips. "Oh, you were going to leave him there for days, the poor mouse," he countered with a giggle. "Though, I only asked that you take the gun off him. Freeing the little Dormouse and giving him that address was no such request of mine." Jonathan visibly rolled his eyes in light annoyance, though he felt too tired to make any sort of argument out of it. "I'm also not exactly feeling myself right now, Tetch. You've caught me at the weakest I've been in over a decade. Trust me, by tomorrow, I'll be back to my usual dignifiedself again. Let's get some rest before I fall asleep right here," he murmured. "Ah, tell me all about it," Jervis exhaled to himself, his mind elsewhere as the last bit of red faded from the sky. A smile crept up to his face, not unnoticed by his companion, but certainly ignored. "Whatever it is, I don't want to know," Crane muttered, but Jervis didn't seem to want to let it die so easily.

"Well, speaking of being yourself…" Tetch trailed off. That meant he was going to ask something potentially irritating.

"Spit it out already," the good doctor sighed, tired of skirting around issues as they had done so many times before. "I'd like to hear you speak," Jervis requested. This received a questioning look from the psychiatrist. "Pardon me?" he replied, fiddling with his glasses that hung from his long-sleeved shirt as he awaited clarification. "I'd like to hear you speak normally," Jervis explained, a stupid grin spread across his face. He only got the most unamused stare he'd received in the past hour, which was a bit of a record. Still, he pressed on. "I want to hear you speak normally," he repeated, hoping he sounded a bit more serious this time around. "Now that I know all you speak are imitations and impressions and impersonations, I implore that I hear you speak normally for once. Just once." As he said this, he found and pulled into a small motel; a small enough motel that you might suspect a man and his dead mother might be residing in it. While the two didn't want to stop, they had to if they wanted to keep driving without incident. Seeing as Jervis came from a country with the exact opposite rules of the road, it wouldn't be a wise idea to have him tired and behind a wheel.

"No," Jonathan stated firmly as they pulled into a small lot. "We are not talking about this." He turned to get out of the lot, but flinched and stopped when his arm was lightly touched by his partner in crime, just barely enough to catch his attention. Jervis was looking up at him with a jovial grin and an apologetic gaze. "You already said you're not yourself; this is the only time I'm sure I'll ever get the chance. Just this once?" he requested. He sounded like a child begging his uncle to be picked up. "Then I'll never bother you again about the subject, I swear on it Alice herself."

"Jervis, this is how I normally speak," Jonathan countered, his temper rising, though on low heat more than anything. "Poppycock!" Jervis denied, letting go of him. "If that was true, you wouldn't have any slip-ups! There's no need to be embarrassed, Hare. It's just an accent."

"I have no accent," Crane scoffed, opening the door of his car. "You're acting like a child. Stop with this foolish nonsense." Jervis quickly pulled away, frowning softly as he realized he was pushing the envelope. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Jonathan, who seemed to have much to say today. "I've had enough of this trip as it is, so I'd rather not keep being reminded of the roots I thought I'd left behind years ago. I'm from a different part of the country Jervis, so is it really so odd I may have a few quirks in my voice? You don't see me asking you to call me 'mate' all the time just because you're British like it's some neat party trick. As much as your prodding has aided any underlying problems today, I'd much appreciate that you drop this subject." Jonathan paused as he was about to exit the door, noticing the apologetic ghost of a smile he was receiving. With a sigh, he closed his eyes for a split second, as if to internally scold himself for something. He took a quick glance at the keys.

Then it happened. It was quick, and the Englishman almost didn't catch it from how hurried and deliberate it was. Jonathan looked over at him and reached for the keys. "Can yew han' me mah keys? I'm gonna be drivin' nex' time."

It was slurred and it was slowed like there was a certain weight behind his speech. It was improper, but it was smooth and natural, as though the speaker had been talking in such a way for years. Even though Jonathan was clearly the one talking, it didn't even sound like him, as it lost all the thin, clipping, and cold nature that made his usual speech so distinctive. Jervis couldn't help it. He slapped a hand to his own mouth, trying to hide the ever-growing grin that threatened to take over his face. A soft "oh my" left his mouth as lifted another hand to hide his giddy expression.

Jonathan for the first time seemed to flush in embarassment, tearing the keys out of the ignition and exiting the car. "You're unbelievable," he muttered, now regretting the little gift he had just given his foreign partner. Jervis let out a little gasp as he left the car quickly. "Oh no no no, mate, don't be embarrassed!" he called apologetically, strolling after him as Jonathan stormed towards the motel. "I was just unprepared for it, that's all! I love it, I swear!"

"You're unbelievable, Jervis," Jonathan muttered, ignoring the smaller man's little titter. "No no no no, don't be shy about it," Tetch encouraged. "Your voice is like fine treacle! I just want to store it all in a well and keep it forever!"

Jonathan looked back at him, stopping at the door to the lobby. "Well what did you think it was going to be like?" he scoffed, to which Tetch stopped. He removed his hat, playing with the rim as it was soon him who became the shy one. "Well… I thought you would say something else when you finally went about it," he confessed, trying to wipe the grin off of his face. "Well, what did you think I would say?" Jonathan questioned.

Jervis' voice became small as his next words were uttered; he looked to the side, trying to hide his heated face. "'What in tarnation?'" he squeaked, an embarrassed grin coming to his face.

The fearsome villain stopped in his tracks, bringing a hand to his own mouth as he tried to keep something from slipping, though a little "snrk" was able to break out. He wasn't prepared for that, he will admit, but he quickly recollected himself.

"I hate you all so much," he murmured, going inside the motel to greet the poor fool inside. "As you do everyone, Hare," Jervis tittered, following him inside after placing his hat back upon his blonde mess of hair. "By the by, don't you mean, 'I hate ya'll so much'?"

"Jervis, I swear on everything I love that I will make you feel fear like you have never known," Jonathan swore, to which Tetch just smiled politely at him. "Then I suppose it's a good thing you've never loved anything before, hmm you cold-hearted bastard?" he laughed, ignoring the death glare.

Dirt kicked up into a small cloud as the Batmobile came to a sudden halt in the dirt road. The thick glass canopy sliding out of place, the Dark Knight smoothly removed himself from the cockpit of his car. The recently shadowed landscape made it difficult for those untrained to see anything of interest, but even in his black and gloomy surroundings, his hawk-like eyesight wasn't hampered.

"Batman, how're you doing out there?"

Batman paused, listening into his radio transmission as he heard the distinctive voice of his protégé. "Better," he answered, looking over to the shadow of the aged chapel in the distance, shrouded by the branches of looming trees that seem to have sprouted for the sole purpose of hiding whatever secrets contained within. "How's Gotham?"

"Could be better," Robin sighed through the radio, the stress in is voice indicating he was currently on the move. "Ivy's paired up with Harley and have gone a bit haywire. Nothing I can't handle, though. We recently captured Firefly after he tried to burn down a building. He was sure surprised to see it was only me." Batman frowned, continuing his observation of his surroundings. "Do they know I'm missing?" he questioned. He could hear Robin hive a hum of denial. "Nah, can't imagine so, but I think they're starting to catch on. You might want to hurry up on catching Scarecrow and Hatter. How're you doing on that, by the way?"

Batman looked back at the road, turning on his night vision installed into his cowl and following the tracks paved into the impressionable ground. "I'm closing in on Tetch and Crane," he reported. "They were recently here. The tracks are fresh and match the wheels of the stolen vehicle reported."

"You sure it's them?" Robin asked over the transmission, the hum background noise indicating he was driving through the streets of Gotham. "Definitely," Batman replied, standing up and following the tracks with his eyes. "There's no reason a random thief would stop in my location and make a complete U-turn and drive back. It seems they're taking the route back to Gotham."

"Think you'll be able to catch up with them before they disappear?" his partner inquired, his voice not showing a hint of worry. He knew his mentor would be fine, despite facing against two criminal masterminds at the same time.

"Definitely," the Knight answered, moving back to his vehicle. "Blood scans from the warehouse indicate both were injured."

"From the SWAT raid?"

"From each other. I found a shell casing beside stains of Crane's blood, fired from his own gun. Tetch's blood was also found, but without a bullet, I can only assume it must have been from one of Crane's other weapons. Possibly his scythe or a knife."

"Whoa. They tried to kill each other?" Robin murmured, grunting as his motorcycle came to a halt on the other end. "I thought they were working together."

"Tetch is an unpredictable and violent schizophrenic, capable of anything short of taking over the world," Batman answered, getting back into the driver's seat. "Whoa whoa, don't test him," Robin interjected, but the Knight ignored him. "Crane has an antisocial personality disorder and had shown faint signs of having dissociative identities. They were bound to get at each other's throats at some point, especially given their past together. However, whatever happened at the warehouse, they seemed to have made up. There isn't enough blood to indicate the death of either one, and I found medical supplies with traces of both men, indicating Crane patched Tetch and himself up. There's also the fact that the entire SWAT team was picked off by both of them."

"Pfft, they're friends again? It'd almost be sweet if they didn't precede to kill twenty people and weren't also the Scarecrow and Mad Hatter. How fast do you think you'll be able to catch them?"

Batman revved the car. "Within tonight, surely. Keep Gotham safe, Robin. Before dawn, I'll have them and I'll be heading back."

Without another word and with the well wishing of his protégé watching over him, he took off down the road.