#36 Think three moves ahead.

With a final twist of the screwdriver, Edward held up the mechanism he'd been building steadily and silently for the last hour. It gleamed a dull emerald green as he smirked. The Riddler trophy went down on a table next to a dozen similar copies but they weren't for Batman, for once. Nor were they for Catwoman. It chirped happily 'How many riddles does it take to drive a scarecrow batty?'

They were the means of his revenge. His heavily taped and torn fingers tapped at the gashed wood as he thought of the best way to begin his retribution.

Once began, he would have to make himself scarce. The Scarecrow was not a forgiving man in the wake of cruel jokes and honestly, Edward wasn't surprised by that. Come to think of it, he'd never really asked why Crane despised those he did. It was almost like an unspoken agreement. He'd never questioned Edward's utter hate for his father, the police or any of his usual ranting targets. Edward mused that Jonathan probably didn't even care. Not that Edward cared about the horrors Crane had witnessed, he was much too selfish for that.

Oh well, Jon only knew about roughly half of his bolt-holes. Edward still had the rented storage locker in Dead Switch's name, the hotel room in The Narrows under an alias and one or two derelicts on the outskirts of Gotham itself. If worse come to worse he supposed he could always take up residence at Arkham but he would have to be desperate to purposefully land himself there.

His hand reached out and lovingly stroked the curve of the question mark.

'Bats and Cats and Riddles, oh my!'

Oh yes, this was going to be fun.

Some bullshit excuse had gotten him past the front door and Jonathan was always eager to talk about his infernal work. Like all rogues, he viewed it as the most important thing in the city limits. Edward viewed it as one of the most limited uses ever but it would be bad manners to point that out.

He also had a test subject in the lab. Wonderful.

'What exactly are you working on now, Jon?' Edward frowned and reached out to touch a bubbling crucible. Jonathan's hand snaked out and smacked his errant fingers away from the glass.

'I'm working on a strain of toxin that will increase dopamine production to near dangerous proportions, I'm calling it UltraToxin but I'm having trouble with the side effects.'

'Side effects?' Edward's hands drew away from the manufacturing equipment and Jonathan smirked.

'The test subject invariably loses control of core temperature control and develops a fever that boils the brain, all while shrieking delightedly with particularly vivid-'

Edward winced. 'Sorry I asked,' His attention wandered to Jonathan's latest guinea pig and was delighted to find him strapped into the gurney and ready to test. He already seemed highly agitated; all it would probably take was the loosening of his restraints. Enough to allow the terrified man's fingers to eventually work open the others.

'Edward, are you paying attention?' Jonathan demanded with the sharp tongue of a teacher and snapped him out of his tunnel vision.

'Of course Jon,'

'Summarise our conversation,'

'Must I?' He begged good-naturedly. A churlish smirk crawled up Jon's face.

'Indulge me,'

Edward clasped his hands behind his back and took a thoughtful step back as his eidetic memory once again dazzled. He doubted Jon paid attention to the movement of his hands behind his back. Just the one strap, he had no desire to be held by scalpel-point by his own idiotic design.

Once he'd successfully proven to be a genuine savant at multilevel thinking, Edward changed tactics. 'I believe it's customary for a guest to get tea?' He asked pointedly.

'Oh. Yes.' Jon frowned as his thoughts were derailed suddenly and he was forced to concede to social etiquette, a skill he had never really had grasp of . 'Come upstairs then, I'm sure the test subject can wait.'

Oh I don't think he can, Edward mused delightedly as he followed Scarecrow out of the door.

It happened as he was pouring boiling water into two cups.

BANG.

Shriek.

CRASH.

Jonathan's arm jerked and he began pouring boiling liquid all over the kitchen bench. Neither particularly cared, it wasn't even their kitchen. The kettle went down onto the damp balding marble effect plastic as Jonathan fumed. 'What is going on down there? If he's-'

The basement door slammed open and the test subject streaked past.

Jon said some highly unprofessional things and gave chase as Edward enjoyed a chuckle at the expense of The Scarecrow. Watching Crane running was like watching a giraffe trying to gallop without first having sorted out the business of actually standing. All flailing legs and frenetic overcompensation. No wonder Batman hardly had trouble catching him, Jonathan was not a sprinter.

The bag he'd stashed by the front door was dragged in and Edward began his wander around the Scarecrow's lair. Let's see now. He wanted an average of at least three in each room plus a fisheye. He wanted to record every moment of Jon's torture to enjoy in the future.

He was particularly proud of his use of the crawl space behind Jonathan's bed. If he had calculated properly, the trophy would be squawking behind his ear for the entire night and, genius as he was with chemistry, Edward doubted Jonathan would be clever enough to figure out where the infernal sound was coming from.

Having succeeded in assuring Jonathan Crane would never have another good night's sleep until he moved his entire operation – Something a rogue like him would be loathe to do – Edward went back to enjoying his tea.

Five minutes later, Jonathan was back, dragging the unconscious test subject. He had a bloody gash in the middle of his forehead that Scarecrow seemed eager to avoid touching.

He dragged the subject to the basement and swore heavily.

'Problem, Jon?' Edward smirked with practiced nonchalance.

'The little cretin has broken my distillation tubes,' Jon growled. Which meant that the entire basement was flooded with UltraToxin fumes. 'At least that explains why he was so terrified he ran headlong into a wall,' Jonathan mused. 'I shall have to record that and test on it later.'

Edward snorted. He doubted Jonathan would be doing any concentrating for a good while. Time to make his exit and find somewhere nice and secure in Nantucket to enjoy his friend's destabilization.

'Well, I would love to stay and help Jon, but I have things of my own that require my attention.' Edward drained his cup and left it beside the trophy on the table.

'Yes, yes. Goodbye Edward.' Jonathan muttered distractedly.

Jonathan was still brooding over the loss of his precious equipment and the fact that his lab was now flooded with UltraToxin. His night would not improve, Edward was sure of it.

He suppressed a smirk as he made it out of the door and to freedom.

'How many of these are there?!' Jonathan screamed.

Edward sat back and smirked as The Scarecrow got on with the task of finding the dozens of trophies he'd scattered around his temporary home. He was pleased he'd bothered with the bulkier fish-eyes that included the microphones. He could lip read well enough but he just couldn't imagine the fury and frustration that were evident in Jon's voice as he tore the room to shreds.

'Nigma! I know this is your doing!'

He resisted the urge to lean forward and interact with him, the idea was to make him suffer and Edward knew he wouldn't be able to resist giving him hints.

Jonathan finally found one and proceeded to smash it with vindictive delight. His euphoria was short lived. The counters for the other trophies decreased at the loss of another signal. That made them louder, faster repeating nightmares. A lose/lose situation which only seemed to frustrate The Scarecrow even more.

'When I get my hands on you Edward, you'll wish you were dead!'

Edward savoured it. If, Jonathan. He replied inwardly. If you catch me.

The only sanctuary he would find in that house would be the basement. Such a shame that it was currently still filled with UltraToxin fumes.

Jonathan seemed to have forgotten that Edward has played chess with him, frequently. Edward could read The Scarecrow like a book. It wasn't that hard to think three moves ahead.

Ouch, remind me not to get the boss all riled up. He does hit you where it'll hurt the most. Scarecrow won't take this lying down, not at all. Maybe it's time I got myself arrested and spent some time in my nice quiet cell in Arkham?

A/N: Oh my god I have spent forever sitting on this one giggling my head off at it. I'm super excited to show this. Riddler's Revenge! This one's for Scrib who really wanted to see Edward get his own back AND she was my one hundredth reviewer! Awesome, right?

JustRandome was close when they said it would involve Fear Gas. Yes and then again, no. I don't think Scarecrow particularly wants to sleep with his mask on in the basement and risk a leak. Then again, the alternative is listening to bad Wizard of Oz riddles. Choices, choices.