3

As she expected, the pyro was no challenge. Get guys like that talking and you can't stop them from giving themselves away. Her next interview, however, was going to be more interesting. Edward Nigma, or Eddie Nashton as he was born or the Riddler as he is known now, was a classic case of narcissistic personality disorder with a very high IQ and a penchant for outsmarting people. He wasn't going to give her anything easily, not if he was aware of it anyway. Dr. Adams had become distant with Trista, refusing to meet her and instead opting to send her dates and times for her interviews in the form of memos given to her by proxies. That was fine by her. She didn't need to deal with Dr. Alpha-Bitch just yet. She was given a few more days to prepare this time, although when dealing with a know-it-all like Nigma she would need all the time she could get to gather facts and data just to keep up with him. The trick with narcissists was to keep pace with them without overtaking them. If you couldn't keep up, they'd get bored with you and shut down. If they couldn't keep up with you, they'd become enraged and antagonistic. Getting Nigma to give her something genuine will require precise applications of both. Sidestepping an ego as massive as his will be difficult but egos are simple creatures with simple needs. I'll just need to get my mental database stocked up first. Trista thought as she entered the ancient stone building currently housing the Gotham Library. It was a building even older than the Arkham house and contained the single greatest collection of rare books on the east coast. Trista found herself a good corner to work in and started digging.

The next morning, Trista was sitting in the office of Marshal Laurence, head of the GCPD's cybercrimes unit. He was a stocky man with a push broom moustache and coke bottle glasses. Trista half expected to see a pocket protector sticking out of his breast pocket.

"Nigma was a brilliant man. He used to head this very unit, in fact he was the one who trained me." Laurence typed at his keyboard as he talked, glancing from the screen to Trista, or more specifically to Trista's chest.

"He was a hard man to work for. A real hard ass that never had anything but criticism for anyone, especially if they were doing well. When they finally figured out he had been the infamous Riddler we'd been tracking, no one here was surprised. I only wish we'd realized it sooner." Laurence adjusted the glasses on his nose and looked back at his screen when he noticed Trista had seen him staring.

"The way I heard it, Nigma got the job here by hacking the GCPD data base. He left a calling card asking for the job and Commissioner Loeb liked his initiative and approved it. Soon he was tracking down hackers and identity thieves faster than we could process them. Of course later we found out he was really eliminating the competition for himself. He created the notorious "?est E0n" virus, a software corrupting, data mining, super bug, which still plagues emails and websites to this day. Its funny, he made such a big deal out of catching the Riddler hacker, had a huge wall of suspects and offered us promotions if any of us could find him. You'd think he'd keep us off the case but it was like he was daring us to catch him. I guess that's one of the reasons we didn't suspect him."

Laurence took a swig of coffee and typed something in. "The only thing he cared about more than the Riddler case was the Batman. Most of us were more than happy to leave that case unsolved, but not Nigma. He was obsessed with figuring out who he was. In the end it was the Batman who exposed Nigma as the Riddler so I guess he had good reason to want him gone."

Trista nodded and clicked off her recorder. "Can you send me those files?"

Laurence smiled politely and said, "Sure thing. You think you can send me a copy of your article when its done? I'd love to read it."

Trista agreed and thanked him again before heading back to her hotel.

Trista pulled the files on Nigma from her email and started creating a profile of him in her mind. After being exposed as the Riddler hacker, Nigma left the department and disappeared into the Gotham underground. It was at this time his Riddler persona escalated. Riddler's crimes had been heavily covered in the media, despite the department's attempts to keep it quiet. This was most likely Nigma's own doing. He needs to be in the spotlight, he wants to be seen. He had been one of the first to be dubbed a "super criminal" by the media for his larger-than-life persona and theatrical crimes, perhaps he even created the title himself. His crimes targeted the Gotham elite, the university professors and politicians. Anyone Nigma felt needed to be brought down a peg. He would hack their computers, disrupt their lives, give their information away to scam artists and crooks. All the while he would send them cryptic messages and riddles to answer, and with each incorrect reply, a new misery would be visited upon them. Many of his victims suffered ruined careers, mental breakdowns, and even suicide attempts. The keys to his crimes and future victims were always delivered to the authorities in riddle form, much to their chagrin. In addition to engineering skills, Nigma also utilized the computer hacking and identity theft skills he'd displayed while on the force both to fund his crimes and hide his identity. Nigma believes he is the smartest man in the world and anyone who dared to claim otherwise would be put through his crucible. It was this narcissism which led to his capture by the Batman. Soon after Riddler's crimes began appearing in the media, the media began referring to Batman as "the world's greatest detective" in an obvious attempt to goad Nigma's narcissism. Upon hearing this, Nigma seemed to become once again obsessed with the Batman, leaving clues and riddles solely for him to solve. Nigma was arrested soon after and his final victim rescued.

Trista sat back in her chair, looking out at the night sky, looking for a spotlight to appear on the clouds. These men, most if not all were eventually brought down by one man. The Batman. No one knows who he is or where he came from. Something about him seems to inspire criminals like Nigma to be something more than typical criminals. The way he intimidates the criminal world with his shadowy persona and psychological tactics. It seems to have had a polarizing effect on the criminals of Gotham. Some were chased off by it but others were inspired to new heights. Whether the Batman has had a positive effect on crime in Gotham is still heavily debated. In any case he seems to represent a new era of crime and punishment. For better or worse.

They brought Edward Nigma into the interview room at 12:34 as per Trista's request. The table had been arranged so that Nigma sat at the head while Trista sat to his right, giving him the position of power facing the exit. She had found a chair which sat higher than her own to place him above her physically and had a large stack of files before her on the table. She had arranged for a man in a nondescript black suit to arrive with even more files some time during the interview, claiming they were from the FBI. This would not only show him Trista's interest in him but also the interest of the highest levels of law enforcement. The more important they made him feel, the more likely he was to open up. Nigma himself stood only an inch shorter than Trista herself and had jaw length auburn hair tied back behind his head. He was wiry, clean shaven, and carried himself like a man being escorted by a personal guard rather than a prisoner being brought against his will. Trista made sure to stand when he entered and to give him the look of wonder he expects from the people he meets.

"Trista Martin, I presume."

Trista felt a twinge of genuine surprise. "You know my name?"

Nigma smirked confidently and sat at the head of the table.

"The asylum is practically buzzing with animated rumors about you and your recent feats. I suppose anyone would be awe-struck by someone who can talk to animals."

"We're all animals in one sense or another."

"Does that make Arkham an animal shelter or a zoo?"

Trista smiled subtly and folded her hands before her. "Does that make you a visitor or an exhibit?"

Nigma rolled his eyes and looked down at her. "That makes me a man locked in the monkey cage. How about you? Are you here to gawk and take vacation slides or are you just another monkey come to poke and prod the peculiar hairless ape behind the bars?"

"I am here to ask a few questions."

"Ah, but those who question have little faith."

"And those who do not question have little wisdom." Trista replied.

Nigma smirked like a teacher being given a correct answer. "Indeed, Ms. Martin. You want to ask questions, well I enjoy questions myself, so let's make a game of it. I'll ask you a question and if you answer acceptably I'll answer a question of yours scrupulously, but if you get it wrong I'll answer your question fraudulently. To make it interesting, I won't tell you if you answered my questions properly or not so if you're unconvinced of your answers you may as well resign and go home. Got it?"

"Very well." Trista gave him an accommodating smile and waited for his question. Nigma seemed to study her a moment and he looked at the two-way mirror at her as he spoke.

"You believe you can decipher me like a puzzle, the same way you unraveled Croc and the fire starter. So tell me. What would an English lexicographer have to say about your achievements?"

Trista considered the question. He wanted her to identify the lexicographer in question and tell him what he'd said in regards to something. Psychology? Manipulation? The only lexicographer that came to her mind was Samuel Johnson the famous 17th century lexicographer. There were countless quotes by him but which was he after? He must be referring to what she'd done, most likely as a way of mocking her. What would Samuel Johnson think of her achievements?

"She has, indeed, done it very well; but it is a foolish thing done well."

Nigma smiled with a sideways look and Trista couldn't tell if it was because she was wrong or right. He clapped his hands and looked at her approvingly.

"Since it's your first time I'll bend the rules a bit and tell you that you are correct in quoting Samuel Johnson. Bravo. Now you may query your inquiry."

Trista smiled with a bit of relief and said, "When did you turn to crime?"

Nigma grinned and scratched his chin contemplatively. "I was a child. I began breaking the rules when I recognized they only applied to the naive. Which leads me to my question. Imagine you're trapped in an asylum and the rules say you can't leave. How do you get out?"

Trista considered the question. Is he asking me how to escape? How to get around the rules? Does he want me to admit there is no escape without breaking the rules or that there is a way out without breaking the rules? The key to solving riddles is to consider the simplest solution. He asked me to imagine I was trapped.

"I stop imagining that I'm trapped." Nigma made no indication she was right but only continued to watch her like a particularly interesting bug.

"What is your real name?"

Nigma looked up at the fluorescents in the ceiling as he shook his head.

"I could ask you the same question, Ms. Martin. Why ask a question if you know the answer? Because you want someone to know you know the answer. The name I give to others is Edward Nigma. The name others gave to me is the Riddler. The name I was born with is irrelevant, unlike yours. I know why you changed your name, if you want to know then answer me this. My first is often at the front door. My second is found in the cereal family. My third is what most people want. My whole is one of the united states."

Trista felt a sense of violation. Nigma knew her real name? That would mean he had access to her information somehow, even while locked up. She felt hesitant to push him further, unsure what he might capable of. Then again he may be bluffing to throw me off. Never mind. At the front door? A guest, a mat, a bell, a knob. Cereal family? Wheat, barley, rye, oat. What most people want? Love, money, sex, power. Bell-oat-sex. Knob-rye-money. Mat-rye-money. Matrimony. A united state. Jesus, he does know.

"Matrimony. How did you find that out?"

Nigma smiled devilishly and shrugged. "Come now, Ms. Martin. Names are low hanging fruit on the information tree. Money and time can get you a lot of things. There was a man who was born before his father, killed his mother, and married his sister. Yet there was nothing wrong with what he did. Why is this so?"

Trista smirked. She'd heard this one before. "His father was there at his birth, his mother died in child birth, and he later became a priest and married his sister at her wedding. Do you leave solutions to your crimes in riddle form because you want to be caught?"

Nigma's smile faded just enough for Trista to notice. "I do it in the interest of fairness. After all, the game is no fun if you have an unfair advantage. What would a sewing crates salesman say about it?"

Trista was lost on this one. Sewing crates? Something about fairness, or games and fun. He wants me to quote someone. A famous salesman? What is a sewing crate? Sewing-crate. Sew-crate. So-crate. Socrates. A Socrates salesman, which means Plato. What did Plato have to say about fairness?

"A guest will judge better of a feast than a cook." She was beginning to see frustration in Nigma's eyes. He wasn't expecting her to do so well.

"So far the only one to solve your riddles in time to stop you has been the Batman. Do you believe he is your intellectual equal or superior?"

Nigma seemed to wince at that and his smile faded completely.

"Batman is no smarter than the rest of you ill-bred simpletons, he just cheats better than anyone else. But if you think the 'world's greatest detective' is smarter than me, tell me this; When I'm used, I'm useless, once offered, soon rejected. In desperation oft expressed, the intended not protected."

"I'd say that's a poor excuse for a riddle." Trista said with a clever grin which seemed to set Nigma's teeth on edge. She was reeling him in now.

"No more games, Edward. I came here to interview the most brilliant criminal in history so I suggest you stop holding back." Nigma's smile returned.

"Well met, Ms. Martin. I can see you did your homework. I did mine as well. You want to dissect me as a typical case of narcissistic personality disorder coupled with delusions of grandeur so all of those simpletons who subscribe to your pathetic attempt at as psychological journal can feel superior. You think you can understand me and break me down into simple terms and conditions like a meal cut and ground to be consumed by the physically enfeebled. Let me assure you Ms. Martin, if you really understood me your dear readers would find me quite unpalatable."

Trista stood up at this and gathered her files. Nigma watched with a superior smirk as she put them all away and started for the door. Trista stopped before opening the door and turned back to Nigma.

"If you think I can't comprehend you psychologically, I'd be better off having you write the article. Unfortunately the security measures you are under prohibit that. It's a shame. You were going to be the center piece of my series on super criminals. I guess I'll have to make due with what I have. Thank you for your time, Mr. Nigma."

He looked at her with a suspicious sidelong glare though his smirk remained unmoved as she left him to be returned to his cell.

That night Trista stayed up into the early hours of the morning writing the article with what information she had. She kept a close eye on her email in case what she'd hoped would happen happened. An egomaniac like Nigma wouldn't be able to resist the invitation she'd given him. She would either receive an anonymous email or a summons for another interview. Of course if he didn't, she had more than enough to construct a decent article without him. All she had to do was wait and see.