1:30 pm

Edward had decided to stay with Penelope for a while that afternoon. It had been a week since he'd seen her last after all, he reasoned. And it wasn't as if they didn't have quite a bit to talk about. For her part, Penelope did not seem in a rush to shoo him out either, working away at her paperwork while he chattered on in the seat in front of her desk. "...So then, the girls decided that just telling Ellen stories about our exploits wasn't enough, they had to show her pictures as well! So there I am, having to explain to my fifteen-year-old daughter why I decided to rob the First National Bank dressed in a green jacket with light up questions marks!"

Penelope smiled slightly and continued writing. Edward was beginning to slowly, but surely be able to read her body language. This was genuine amusement. He smiled a bit himself, then continued on. "Nina and Deirdre then proceeded to tell her that when Batman arrived, he foiled our getaway by aiming a Batarang at the emergency sprinkler system. When my jacket got soaked, the lights short-circuited and I had to throw it off because it started to smoke!"

Then Penelope did something Edward didn't expect. She laughed. A short laugh that she immediately covered up with a hand over her mouth. She looked up at him and her face flushed a bit. She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at the thought of you catching on fire."

Edward shook his head. "It's not that," he said. "I just...I don't think I've ever heard you laugh before." He liked it. "Besides," he said with a smooth wave of his hand. "I've learned to recognize some of the absurdity of my former life. I wouldn't hold it against anyone if they laughed at it every now and then." Within reason. Briefly.

Penelope smiled again and shook her head. "How magnanimous of you." She turned her attention back to her paperwork, then paused. Her smile fell and her expression became almost blank. She put her pen down and rubbed the back of her head. Edward frowned.

"What's on your mind?" he asked.

Penelope sighed. "This morning. This whole week. I just...I keep going over everything that happened in my head and I wonder. Did I do enough? Is there something else I could have said?"

Edward let out a sigh himself. "Well, speaking as a member of the gallery, I'm not sure that there's anything more you could have done. Well, legally at least." If Strange and the Commission members were hellbent on running Gordon and the rest of GCPD out, then there wasn't anything Penelope could do or say to change that, not unless she was willing to resort to drastic measures. Looking at how uncertain she was though, Edward stayed his tongue. That wasn't what she needed to hear now. "You don't seem the type to worry about what-ifs anyway."

"I'm not usually," she admitted. "I've always thought of myself as being in complete control, of always knowing exactly what to do in any situation, but..." she sighed again. "I have to know that I did everything I could. If I didn't, I don't think I could ever forgive myself."

Nearly two years on and the shadow of Arkham Asylum and TITAN hung over her still. You and I are alike I think. We've both lost a part of ourselves, haven't we? "There was something I've been wanting to ask you," he said cautiously. "At the end of your testimony, you said something about how thinking of the denizens of Arkham as monsters can cause a person to justify committing crimes against them. I couldn't help but notice that you were directly addressing Ward." Penelope's face settled into a blank expression and she looked down at her pad of paper. Edward took this as a sign that he was on point. "That was about TITAN, wasn't it? He was involved?"

Penelope slowly nodded. "Ward transferred Bane to Arkham Asylum so that I could-" her voice hitched slightly. "So that I could begin the process of extracting venom from his body, for the formula."

Edward nodded. "You threatened to expose his involvement in that affair to undermine the Commission."

Penelope's voice came out in barely more than a whisper. "Yes."

"Even if that means destroying your career and reputation?"

Penelope looked back up at him, her eyes icy and a determined expression on her face. "It wouldn't be an effective threat if I wasn't willing to go through with it, now would it?"

"No, it wouldn't," Edward admitted. He couldn't approve of her willingness to sacrifice herself for an institution like GCPD, but this determination, this internal fire...he greatly preferred this to the hesitant, almost fragile woman he'd seen minutes earlier. "If he calls your bluff, give me warning at least before you do anything. Exposing sensitive information about prominent city officials is something of a specialty of mine."

"I can handle Ward. You don't have to get involved-"

"I want to. I've never liked Ward." Edward tapped his finger on the armrest of his chair. He could never get back what he lost, but Penelope could find herself again. She just needed a push. "It's not a question of your abilities. I'd just prefer not to see you lose everything. You deserve better than to become a martyr for GCPD."

Penelope looked almost taken aback by Edward's statement, which perturbed him somewhat. What's harder to believe, he wondered. That you deserve better, or that I care enough about you to say it?

"I'm not trying to make myself a martyr," she said finally, her voice low. She wasn't angry, or put out. She seemed more resigned. "I just...if something goes wrong, you have a lot more to lose than I do."

Edward blinked. So her going solo for the Commission wasn't just about her proving a point. She was, in her own way, trying to protect him. He felt a surge of fondness for this brave, stubborn woman. He wagged a finger at her. "Really now, dear doctor, have you forgotten who you're speaking with? Edward Nigma, formerly known as the Riddler? I was risking life, limb, and livelihood on the streets of Gotham back when you were choosing what classes to take your freshman year of college. I'm a resource."

"Your condescension is not appreciated, Edward," Penelope huffed. Her serious expression gave way to a small smile. A smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, but a smile still. "But thank you."

Edward smiled back. He liked her so much better when she let herself be happy. "Think nothing of it. Besides, worst case scenario, you could always join me on Vicki Vale's show and do a tell-all interview."

This quip had the desired effect and she let out a small laugh again. "God no," she said. "I don't know how you can stand being as much in the public spotlight as you are."

"I consider it my due," Edward said, leaning back. A return to their usual banter would be welcome after everything they'd experienced the last week. "After all, what good is a dazzling intellect and persona without an audience?"

Penelope rolled her eyes, but in a good-natured way. "You're impossible."

Edward chuckled a bit. Any further talk about the Commission, about Strange, about Harley, about regrets could wait. For now, for just one afternoon, he simply wanted to enjoy her company. "I know it."

6:00 pm

The elevator stopped on the third floor of City Hall. The doors opened almost immediately, but Ward hesitated before stepping out. He'd dreaded having this conversation since the end of Young's testimony but it couldn't be helped. He sighed, stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hall to the Mayor's office. Most of the staff had left already, leaving only the security personnel and an odd staffer or two finishing up on work. As he thought back on the day's events, Ward ground his teeth. He'd anticipated Leland being a threat, but Young? Who could have seen that coming? The insufferable bitch would ruin everything. She needed to be dealt with quickly. He reached the end of the hall and was now standing in front of the solid wooden door of the Mayor's office. Ward let out a long breath and brought his hand to the door. "Quincy? It's me."

"Come in," a deep voice sounded from the other side. Ward frowned. This wasn't Sharp. He opened the door to find Dr. Hugo Strange standing with his back turned towards him, looking out of a window that overlooked Downtown Gotham. "Good evening, Warden," Strange greeted without looking behind him. "Shut the door."

Ward closed the door behind him. "Where is Quincy?"

"He is running an errand at the moment. He won't be in tonight." Strange slowly turned around, his dark brown eyes peering intently through his glasses at Ward. He'd worked in corrections for most of his adult life, seen every type of scum and monster Gotham City had to offer, but something about Strange's sheer presence made him shiver. "He will be informed as to what we discuss tonight."

Ward gulped a bit. "Fine," he said. "We need to talk about Penelope Young."

"I heard that she made an impression at the proceedings today," Strange said without any trace of amusement. "It seems that she was not quite content with playing the role of aggrieved damsel in distress."

"It's worse than that. She's a threat, Hugo."

Strange gave a small incline of his head. He didn't seem to be surprised, a fact that worried Ward. "Go on."

"She approached me after her testimony. She all but stated that if we continue our attacks on Gordon, she'll publicly expose the TITAN Project." Ward wet his lip. "We need to deal with her."

"She certainly has proved to be more meddlesome than I had originally anticipated," Strange admitted. "However, we cannot move on her. Not yet."

"Not yet?" Ward repeated. "Hugo, if she goes public-"

"It would be damaging, yes. You would have to resign. We would have to put one of our contingencies into effect to ensure that Mayor Sharp would get out relatively unscathed. But the alternative could be costly. We have to consider what it would look like if she were to have an unfortunate accident so soon after her testimony."

"I understand that. I wasn't suggesting we do it right away. But-"

"There is something else to keep in mind as well," Strange interrupted. "Who was it that saved her from an unfortunate fate, and what might he do if she were to meet one?"

Understanding dawned on Ward. "Nigma. You don't think-"

"Nigma is not now nor has he ever been capable of loving anyone," Strange responded. "He is capable of some degree of sentiment, however. And I believe that she is useful to him in some capacity. He wouldn't have lifted a finger for her otherwise. We've been able to keep the man at bay for the time being, but he will perceive an attack on her as an attack on him. We cannot move on her until we have a sound plan to contain him."

Ward wanted nothing more for Young than to have her car brakes fail, or to meet a random mugger in a dark alley, but he could see Strange's point. Nigma had been one of the most formidable criminals in Gotham history for a damn good reason. Ward had seen that for himself in person more than once. If the man wasn't a complete lunatic he'd have had the city in the palm of his hand years ago. "We need to tell Quincy at least."

"And we will," Strange assured him. "He is going to need more...convincing in order to fully turn on her though. He still sees himself as almost a father to her. I told you, he tried to offer her employment at the asylum again."

"I remember," Ward answered. He shook his head. "She should have died that night. Or stayed in hiding. Why the Hell is she starting up trouble now?"

"Her motives are immaterial. We can wait to deal the death blow to Gordon. Her testimony, as unexpected as it was, can't take back the damage done to Bullock and Montoya. As long as even one of them resigns, it leaves Gordon vulnerable. Do not let your anger at Young's presumptuousness distract you from the greater goal."

Ward nodded. "You're right. Of course. Greene and Roberts are still on board with some of Quincy's suggestions. Young undermined their credibility in front of most of Gotham's press corp though. They're going to be reluctant to approve all of them, especially the harsher ones."

"That was to be expected. Even if Greene and Roberts prove to be useless cowards, we have other means to ensure changes are made. Was there anything else?"

Ward shuffled a bit. "Where exactly is Quincy?"

A smile came to Strange's face. "About an hour before you arrived, he received a call from Bolton that made him quite agitated. He said he had an unfinished matter at the Asylum he wanted to personally see to."

Ward furrowed his brow. An unfinished matter at Arkham? What could Sharp possibly need to do-Victor Goodman was at Arkham. "Oh, God."

7:00 pm

After winning the Mayoral election, Sharp honestly hoped that he would never have to set foot through the doors of Arkham Asylum again. That he'd never have to walk through the dark, cramped halls, that he'd never have to listen to the moaning, the shrieking, the laughter, the pleading from the wretches that resided in them. It was blissfully quiet tonight though, the only sound the echoes of the steps he and Lyle Bolton made down the hall. "It's quieter than usual tonight," he said.

Beside him, Bolton grinned. "Yeah. Curfew's at 6:30. They know better than to act up after that." He chuckled. "Amazin' what electrified bars and floor panels can do."

"Quite. And the Rogues?"

"They're still in the Isolation Ward. What's left of it anyway." The pair came to a stop right in front of the last room at the end of the hall. "Here we are. You sure you want to do this, Mayor?"

Sharp's grip on his cane tightened when he thought of the animal that lay on the other side. "Yes."

Bolton opened the door to the Arkham Infirmary, or rather, what passed for it. The official infirmary had been destroyed during the Joker's takeover almost two years ago. Now it was a repurposed recreation room, with six cots and three medical machines. The Asylum had received a grant to rebuild and update the infirmary, but Sharp had ordered the funds to be allocated to Hugo for his own research needs. What point was there to rebuild it if the animals were just going to destroy it anyway? The room itself was empty, save for one patient lying in a cot in the far left side of the room, and one young male orderly standing over him. As Bolton and Sharp entered, the orderly spun around, his eyes widening in shock. "Mr. Mayor!? What are you-"

Sharp held a hand out. "Good evening, Mr..." his eyes peered at the man's nametag. "Mr. Sanchez, is it? I wonder if you would be good enough to give us the room?"

Sanchez looked from Sharp to the patient to Sharp again, almost bug-eyed. "The room? Why-"

Bolton stepped forward, jerking his thumb to the door. "You heard him hombre! Clear out of here!"

Sanchez's face flushed, but he did as he was told, leaving the room with a final backward glance at the pair.

Sharp looked at the patient lying in the cot with disdain. "You may leave, Lyle."

"Mayor, I don't think that's-"

"I can more than handle this degenerate," Sharp insisted. "Make sure that Sanchez finds himself occupied with something else. If I need you, I'll call you."

Sharp didn't look up but heard Bolton's steps out of the room and the sound of the door shutting behind him. Now, for the first time, he was face to face with Victor Goodman.

Goodman's health had deteriorated since being brought back to Arkham. His skin was deathly pale, his face sunken in, his chest nearly concave. Lying in the cot as still as he was, wearing only a thin hospital gown and covered with a single white sheet, he already looked like a corpse. It was only the rhythmic beeping sound of the medical machine that informed Sharp that he was even still alive. He looked at Goodman without a trace of pity. It was the least the filth deserved, he thought, after all that he'd done. "Victor Goodman," he commanded. "Wake up."

Goodman made no movement or sound. Sharp frowned, then poked at his body with the end of his cane. Both of Goodman's wrists were securely cuffed to the sides of the cot, not that Goodman was in any kind of shape to offer resistance. "Goodman!" Sharp barked again. "Wake up!"

Goodman let out a soft groan and slowly opened his eyes. It took a moment for them to focus, and when they did, they narrowed. "Sharp," he muttered, his voice a hoarse croak barely above a whisper.

"That's Mayor Sharp to you, scum!" Sharp huffed. "I have a question for you about your actions last December. You will answer me, do you understand?"

Goodman's eyes shut again. "I've said all that I need to say. Let me live out my last remaining days in peace."

"It's about Penelope Young."

Goodman's eyes opened again. "Penelope...Odysseus' wife and the mother of his son. She waited for him faithfully for twenty years, keeping other suitors at bay through trickery, never losing faith that he would come through his trials and return to her. What do you want to know about her?"

Sharp rubbed the head of his cane. "When I was told that you had abducted her," he said in a low tone. "I believed at first that it was a crime of opportunity. That you simply needed a human shield and that she was the easiest to take. Bolton, however, informed me today that that was not the case. That you specifically targeted her. Why?"

Goodman let out a wheezing noise that might have been laughter once. Sharp's eyebrow twitched. The filth actually had the nerve to laugh at him. "A suitor? She has her Odysseus and it isn't you."

Sharp slammed the end of his cane onto the ground. "Don't be puerile! And if I wanted to talk about dratted Greek mythology, I'd speak to Zeus! Tell me!"

Goodman let out a sigh. "After our meeting at the old nightclub, I was disappointed with who Riddler had become. I had my Ankhesenamun follow him, to see if we could find anything to use against him." His voice turned almost plaintive. "Where is my Ankhesenamun"? I haven't seen her in so long-"

"She's in a Women's Correctional Facility. You'll never see her again. Go on."

Goodman let out a small groan but continued. "She followed him to a coffee shop in Downtown. That was where he met his Penelope."

Sharp growled. "She is not his Penelope." Inwardly, he was confused. Penelope had met with Nigma? Why? What could she possibly have to say to that thing?

"Isn't she?" Goodman mocked. He actually had the audacity to mock him. Him, the Mayor of Gotham, the Savior of this City. Sharp resisted the growing urge to throttle him. He needed to hear what he had to say. "I saw the photographs my Ankhesenamun took of them together. I saw the look in his eyes when she left him. He desires her. He may not acknowledge it, but I know desire when I see it in a man."

Sharp wanted to wretch. How dare he. How dare that preening, self-important, arrogant, maniacal degenerate have the gall to have designs on an innocent girl so far above him? "That was why you kidnapped her? Because you believe he wants her? Sharp would kill him first.

"I don't believe it. I know it. I saw how furious he was when I had her in my grasp, when I took her. And do you know what else?" Goodman smirked a bit as if he knew the words he'd say would harm Sharp. "She desires him as well."

Sharp barely heard the sound his cane made when it slipped from his grasp and fell to the tiled floor. Penelope wanting Nigma? He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it. She was too smart, too driven, too sane to follow in Quinzel's footsteps. "She doesn't-she wouldn't-"

"She does. Even when she was bound and helpless, she tried so hard to protect Riddler from my final trap. I saw the tears almost fall from her eyes when she thought he was dead. I saw the look in her eyes when he came for her. She wants him as much as he wants her. He is her Odysseus, and she will wait for him no matter how long it takes."

Sharp's fists clenched. He remembered Penelope as she was when she had started her internship in Arkham, how bright she had been, how she had been the only one of that group to have real ambition and a vision for what Arkham could be. How quickly she had taken to the place, how he could see her coming around to his line of thinking. How she was everything he had hoped his daughter would be if he had ever had one. The idea of that girl giving herself to Nigma...he wouldn't let it happen. He would save her from him, being her back to where she belonged, part of the new order he would create.

Goodman wheezed again. "Do you know what I regret the most? That I didn't kill her when I took her from GCPD. Riddler's reaction to making it through the trials of the Underworld, only to find her mummified body? It would have been glorious."

Something inside of Sharp snapped at that. With one sudden movement, he wrapped his large hands around Goodman's throat and squeezed. He dimly heard the sound of Goodman's cuffs rattling as he tried in vain to lift his arms to defend himself. His grip tightened. Goodman was making no sound now, his mouth hung open, his dark eyes wide, almost bulging out of his head, just like the others when Sharp had delivered his divine justice. Sharp didn't acknowledge the smell coming from the sheets, nor the fact that his eyes were rolling back. He didn't see Goodman anymore, but another Rogue, one with a tacky suit, a green suit, and a smirk on his face. "You will never have her," Sharp fumed. "I will protect her from you! Do you hear me, Nigma? I won't let you take her from me!" Nigma said nothing, Goodman said nothing. Hours seemed to pass, but Sharp's grip did not loosen. Finally, he heard a long continuous beep coming from the machine. Goodman was dead. He removed his hands from around his throat and surveyed his handiwork. Another wretched soul, cleansed from this City. Soon, Nigma would join them.

When Ward and Goodman arrived, Bolton and Sharp were both in the ramshackle infirmary. Bolton at least had the decency to look slightly embarrassed at the scene. Ward took one look at the body that lay in the cot and nearly vomited. "Jesus!" he hissed. "Quincy you can't start this again! You're the Mayor, for god's sake!"

"Yes," Sharp answered as if he was in a daze. "I am. I am the protector of this City. I will cleanse it of the filth that inhabits it."

"Of course you will," Strange said patting him on the shoulder. "You've had quite the exciting evening, haven't you? Come, let's go to my office and have some tea."

"Alright," Sharp answered. "Thank you, Hugo. Yes, I have had quite a day..." Strange gave Ward a sharp look before he led Sharp out of the room.

As soon as they were gone, Ward turned on Bolton. "And just where were you when this was happening!?"

"Right outside," Bolton shrugged. 'I didn't think he'd actually kill the guy. So, what do you wanna do? Make it look like a suicide?"

Ward sighed, then nodded slowly. "Yes. Help me get his body in a noose by the window. Then strong-arm one of the doctors to sign off on it. Then cremate him. I don't want this coming back to haunt us, understand? What about that orderly that was here?"

"He was on the other side of the building when Goodman died. He doesn't know jack."

"Good. And Bolton? The next time Quincy gets one of these urges, call me immediately. Understand?"

Bolton huffed but nodded. Ward took a breath. He'd lived in Gotham all his life. He'd seen first hand what criminals had done to it. What were a few dead freaks against finally restoring peace and order to this town? "Good. Now help me with the body."