Bullock opens the door leading to Gordon's office, "Commissioner, could I talk to you for a..." He realizes the office is empty, begins to leave but then notices the paper on Gordon's desk. He takes a closer look and thinks to himself for a moment while he eyes the address and map. He quickly puts it in his jacket and leaves.

In Arkham, a man huddles in a corner. There is a heavy sound of a metal lock being opened just before his cell door lets out a creak. Hailey Quinn walks in slowly as the man sits at attention, "You were arrested for working with the Riddler," a strange smile creeps across her face, "Where is he?" The man shrugs, "What... what the hell is this? I ain't... I ain't telling you noth'n. My-My lawyer said that..." Hailey says nothing as she produces a snub nose magnum and points it at the man's forehead. The man leans against the wall, "Okay, okay, I-I'll tell you!"

Batman's eyes open. He looks up to see his hands cuffed and suspended to a tin ceiling by chains. He looks down and notices that his utility belt has been removed. "Just in case," the Riddler holds it in front of him and tosses it onto a nearby table. Batman gets a good look at his surroundings, realizing that they are inside of a storage shed. The walls are mostly bare aside from the camera in the corner.

"I talk, but I do not speak my mind," the Riddler begins, "I hear words, but I do not listen to thoughts. When I wake, all see me. When I sleep, all hear me. Many heads are on my shoulders. Many hands are at my feet. The strongest steel cannot break my visage, but the softest whisper can destroy me."

"You're an actor," Batman explains.

"Good job," the Riddler pulls his mask down around his neck and removes his hat, exposing his face, "So this is the part where I'm supposed to reveal my master plans, right? Or perhaps regale you with the story of my past?"

"Who are you?"

"My name is Edward Nigma. I grew up right here in Gotham. I had a decent, upper middle-class family. Got all A's. Hobbies included puzzles and fencing. I graduated with honors from Gotham University with a major in business management and a minor in accounting."

"So why the life of crime?"

"Ah, so maybe it's because I'm insane? I had an abusive childhood or snapped due to the cruelty of modern society? That's what you wanna hear, right? No, sorry. I'm as sane as the next guy. After school, I got into business and quickly realized that true success in Gotham relied on one thing... the mob. I became a money man."

"Harvey Dent took care of all the money men."

"Most. I managed to slip through the cracks before he showed up... it was right around the time you came on the scene, actually. I realized before everyone else that the old days were over. Things were changing. Sure enough, a year later, the mob was taking orders from some psychopath that called himself the Joker. I knew that these sort of tasteless theatrics were the only way to go in order to get power."

"So you created the Riddler persona. You were nothing more than an act."

"Exactly. I was low enough on the food chain to go unnoticed in the mob but I was important enough to know the in's and out's. I knew what contacts to make. I knew who would be loyal. In order to get their attention, I gave them a character that could battle the Batman in wits and reclaim the former glory of the mob."

"And it's not going to stop at Gotham, is it?"

"Oh, no. I'll be receiving guests soon. Crime lords from New York to LA will be arriving shortly. I'm going to propose a business merger. Soon, I'm going to have my hand in pies all over the country."

"And my death is going to be used as part of your 'business plans'?"

"Absolutely," the Riddler takes a can of gasoline and begins to douse the inside of the shed, "Now, I could just put a bullet through your head. Believe me, I wish it could be that easy. Killing the Batman quickly is impressive" the Riddler motions toward the camera, "Killing the Batman slowly on camera? That's entertainment!"

The Riddler takes a small timer connected to a series of coils and places it on a table, "Once the timer goes off, there's gonna be a small spark," he begins to leave a trail of gasoline, "Which of course, is gonna spread into a flame. And well,... like I said, that's entertainment," he sets the timer and begins to leave.

"One question"

"Yes?"

"When you get locked up in Arkham, do you think you'll be able to convince them that you're not insane?"

"Droll," he shuts the door and can be heard locking it from the outside.