The following evening, at 6:00, Edward arrived at Sharp's campaign headquarters, as promised. He parked his car in front of the drab brick building and walked towards the front entrance, taking note of the layout. One door entrance, large glass windows that afforded an easy view of the volunteers and staffers inside and no security in sight. It was no wonder that someone had been able to drop the letters off without being seen. Even now, less than six feet away from the entrance, no one had picked up on his arrival.

"Mr. Nigma!"

Edward looked towards the noise. At the corner of the building stood a mousy looking young man, trying and failing to be discreet in waving him over. One of Sharp's staffers no doubt. Edward walked over to him.

"Thanks for coming, Mr. Nigma," the young man said, awkwardly extending his hand out for a handshake. Edward took it, briefly. The man gestured behind him.

"Warden Sharp asked me to take you through the side entrance. So you wouldn't distract our volunteers. Please, follow me."

Edward had something to say about that but held his tongue. The staffer turned and walked towards the side entrance. After regaining his composure, Edward followed. The two of them entered the building and walked down the hallway.

"I saw you once at the Metropolitan Art Museum," the staffer said, breaking the silence.

"Did you now?" Edward responded with supreme disinterest. There was usually only one way these conversations tended to go.

"Yeah," the staffer continued. "You'd almost taken the entire Faberge egg collection until Batman showed up. I didn't think people could bounce off of marble floors like that."

Edward gritted his teeth slightly. Always, always, it came back to him. "Well, what can I say? I'm a very durable genius."

"I guess. Is it true they had to rebuild your skull?"

Edward abruptly grabbed the staffer's shoulder and turned him around to face him. "Young man," he said, in a cold, imperious tone. "If you're going to survive long in politics or in Gotham for that matter, you need to learn a little discretion." He then fixed the impertinent young man with a glare. "Get my meaning?"

The staffer gulped and nodded. Satisfied, Edward let him go. "R-right. Sorry, Mr. Nigma. The Warden's office is just this way," the poor man stammered.

Less than one minute later, the two of them had arrived at Sharp's office. The staffer opened the door for the two of them and as soon as Edward had stepped inside, all but run down the hall in the opposite direction. Edward smiled a bit. He really was making an effort to reform, but every so often it felt good to let a little of the old rogue out. There were three men in the room. Sharp himself, sitting at his desk as pompous as ever, a young and slightly fidgety looking security guard and a middle-aged man in a suit and tie holding a briefcase.

"Ah, Edward," Sharp greeted him. "Glad to see you here. You had no trouble finding the place, I see." Sharp gestured to the man with the briefcase. "I'd like to introduce you to my campaign manager, Brian Kocen-" Kocen gave Edward a sharp, short nod. "And my campaign security, Dennis Baxter." The security guard just stared at Edward with wide eyes. Sharp frowned. "Dennis, don't be rude!"

This seemed to awaken the security guard. "Sorry, Warden. Mr. Nigma."

"That's alright, Dennis," Edward said, feeling magnanimous. "I know, I can be a bit overwhelming. So, Warden," Edward turned towards Sharp. "Do you have those letters for me?"

"Of course. Brian?"

Kocen set his briefcase down on the desk and opened it. "These are the letters that we received here," he droned, placing five letters in plastic bags onto the desk. He put another five letters in a separate pile. "These are the letters we received at the asylum."

Edward stepped forward to look at the letters. "Why are they in plastic bags?"

"We wanted to make sure that we left as much evidence on them as possible," Kocen explained. "Do you think that you could pull fingerprints from them?"

He could certainly try, but unless they were a complete imbecile, Edward was certain that whoever left them wore gloves. Edward took a look at the piles. "Are these in chronological order?"

Kocen nodded. "Yes." He pointed at the piles. "The first letters were received at the campaign office on the 10th and the asylum on the 11th. The second ones were received on the 13th and the 14th. Headquarters and the asylum have each been getting a letter every day since this Monday. These last ones we received this morning."

"Do you know what time they've been arriving? Has that been consistent?"

Kocen nodded. "I've been finding them slid under the front door of campaign headquarters when I arrive in the mornings. I get here at 7:00 am every morning."

Edward made a mental note of that, then turned to Dennis. "And what time exactly do you get here?"

The security guard shrugged. "About 9 am. I think."

"And how long do you stay typically?"

"Until about 5."

"So there's no one here at night? Is there a security camera?"

"We ordered one to be installed after we received the third letters," Kocen said. "The company said that they would send someone here tomorrow afternoon."

Edward nodded. "And what about the asylum?"

"I've been finding them myself," Sharp stated. "Slid under my door at my office."

So, whoever this is knows their way around Arkham, including how not to be caught by security, Edward mused to himself. This could actually be a bit of a challenge.

Edward then turned his attention to the piles that Kocen had made. Keeping the piles separated, Edward opened the bags containing the letters sent to the campaign office and carefully removed each letter from its envelope, arranging them in chronological order on the desk. He did the same with the letters sent to the asylum so that there were two parallel lines on the desk. Edward carefully looked at each letter. They were typed, in large font on standard printing paper. He wouldn't get much information out of them physically.

The messages were where the real evidence was. Each letter had the same message printed: YOU ARE A HYPOCRITE AND A LIAR. YOU CLAIM THAT YOU ARE AGAINST CRIME BUT YOU ARE PROTECTING A MURDERER. WE WANT THE TRUTH. WE WANT JUSTICE. TAKE RESPONSIBILITY AND TELL THE TRUTH.

Edward rubbed his chin in thought. So far, his first hunch about this seemed to be panning out.

"Well, Edward?" Sharp interrupted. "Any thoughts?"

"I can say a few things with absolute certainty," Edward said, tapping his pointer finger on the desk. "The first one being this: These letters weren't written by any of the super criminals. Whoever wrote this is a regular citizen."

"How are you so sure?" Dennis asked. Edward had nearly forgotten he was in the room.

"The rogues are like any other group of criminals Dennis. They each have their own signature. And these letters don't match any of them. Besides," he said counting off on his fingers. "Of the assorted rogues, Joker, Dent, Fries, and Tetch are currently in Arkham. Whoever's behind this has to have greater freedom of movement than that. Harley and Ivy are on the outside," Nigma's tone became darker as his fist clenched. "But I know from experience that they don't warn you before they stab you in the back. Crane's not accounted for, but this doesn't match his MO-"

"Jonathan Crane is dead," Sharp interjected impatiently. "He was killed by Waylon Jones back at the asylum. Didn't you know that?"

It took all of Edward's willpower and thoughts of the penthouse this job's paycheck would help him save up for to not rap Sharp on the head with his cane. "Of course I knew," Edward managed to hiss out. "But I also know that his body was never recovered. In this town, you aren't dead without a body." Edward took a breath to calm himself. "But we're getting off track here. If any of my former associates were involved, we'd already know it. They aren't exactly a subtle bunch. No, judging from how easily they've been able to avoid Arkham's security-" Too easy, Edward thought. Didn't you learn anything from last year? "-And their knowledge of the layout of both the asylum and this office, whoever sent these letters is either a current or former employee or knows someone who is."

"One of my own staff? Are you sure Edward?" Sharp asked.

"Almost positive," Edward replied matter of factly. "To tell the truth, I suspected an inside job the moment you told me that these letters had been found at Arkham. It's one thing for a political opponent or a run of the mill crank to leave letters at a campaign office without being discovered. It's quite another for them to manage to leave them at Arkham Asylum unseen. There's not very many people who can manage that without being an insider," Edward let a bit of self-satisfaction creep into his voice. "Or a genius like myself."

"But why would an employee do something like this now?" Kocen asked. "And what do they mean by 'protecting a murderer'?"

Edward looked almost approvingly at the campaign manager. Finally, someone was addressing the elephant in the room. "The answer to both of those questions is on your calendar gentlemen." The three men just looked at Edward with confused expressions on their faces. Edward had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He knew he was five steps ahead of the average Gothamite but really. "What event will Warden Sharp be headlining this upcoming Monday?"

The warden just continued to look confused, but a look of realization spread on Kocen's face. "The memorial ceremony for Arkham! Next Monday is the one year anniversary of the Joker's break-out!"

Edward pointed his cane at Kocen. "Correct sir!"

"Not that business again," Sharp muttered. "That matter is closed."

"Begging your pardon Warden, but clearly it isn't," Edward said. "Whoever sent these letters has unfinished business from that event. It's no coincidence that they started sending these letters less than a month before the first anniversary."

"Well what do they want from me?" Sharp sputtered. "I've taken every possible measure to improve security at the asylum! I've made security the entire centerpiece of my campaign! What do they gain by targeting me?"

"Which brings me to my final deduction," Edward said. "You aren't the real target Warden. You've been receiving these letters because whoever has been sending them needs information from you. Namely, the identity of the 'murderer' you've been hiding."

"I haven't been hiding any murderer!" Sharp almost shouted, defensively. "Whoever's been writing them is obviously unhinged."

"That may be true," Edward admitted. "But unhinged or not, they have a definite grievance against whoever this person is. And judging by the increase in the amount of letters they've been sending, they're escalating. If they can't get to the 'murderer' in these letters, they may content themselves with you Warden."

Sharp's face turned pale at the implication. His slumped forward a bit in his chair. "What do you need from me Edward?"

Edward pulled out his notebook and a pen from his breast pocket. "First of all, I'm going to need a list of all of your current employees at Arkham, as well as any former employees who were there at the time of the break-out."

Sharp nodded. "Of course. You'll have that list by tomorrow morning."

"Secondly," Edward said. "I'd like to hear your account of the incident. I've already done a fair bit of background research myself, but I know for a fact that not every detail made it to the general public."

Sharp glared at him. "Is that really necessary? I've already said all that needs to be said."

Edward had had just about all he could take from this pompous idiot. "Either you tell me or your employees will," Edward said testily. "And somehow I don't think they'll paint you in quite as good a light as the media has the past year."

Sharp's face reddened. "How dare you-"

"I'm sure he means well," Kocen intervened. "He just needs as much information as you can give him Quincy." Kocen looked at Edward then. "Anything he says is off the record, right?"

"I'm a private investigator, not a police officer," Edward grumbled. "I do have some discretion. And I'd like to remind you that we did sign a confidentiality agreement." Of course, any juicy details Edward gleaned from this would be stored away for potential future use, but no one here needed to know that.

Sharp still didn't look happy, but he relented. "Fine. What exactly would you like to know?"

Finally. "How exactly did the Joker break free?"

"He'd compromised the security system somehow," Sharp explained. "He and that dreadful Quinzel woman managed to turn the security system against us."

"That was Wayne Tech wasn't it?" Edward asked. "That couldn't have been easy. Not just any hacker could have pulled that off."

"Wasn't it you?" Dennis asked.

Edward sighed just a bit. "No Dennis, although it's certainly something I'm capable of. You may not be aware of this, but I was in a coma during this unfortunate event. I have a plate in my skull to prove it."

Dennis shrank back a bit. Sharp cleared his throat before continuing. "Well, they had inside help. A security officer named Frank Boles was working with the Joker. He helped break him and his men out."

Edward wrote the name in his notebook. This was promising. "And where is this Frank Boles now?"

"Dead," Sharp said vindictively. "He was killed by the Joker at some point during the break out. Good riddance."

Well, so much for that lead. "Were any of the other security staff involved?"

"None that we could ever prove," Sharp answered. "Most of them died during the break out. The ones who survived have mostly left for other jobs."

"Even Aaron Cash?"

"We terminated him after the incident. It was his incompetence that led to the disaster."

Somehow Edward doubted that was true, but he didn't press the issue. He'd never liked Cash anyway. He made a mental note to put Cash at the top of the suspect list. "And about those monsters Joker created. How exactly did he manage that?"

Sharp turned a bit cagey. "He'd gotten access to an experimental chemical we were developing to help treat our more...extreme patients. I assure you, it was never meant to be used the way that degenerate used it."

At the mention of the chemical, a light went off in Edward's brain. I know this from somewhere. "TITAN, wasn't it?"

Sharp looked surprised. "How did you know that Edward?"

How do I know that? Where have I heard it before? "Good investigative work," Edward lied. "So," he continued before anyone had time to question this, "Who was the doctor who was helping Joker?"

"Doctor?" Sharp repeated dumbly.

"Well yes," Edward said a bit impatiently. "Joker's a talented chemist, but he's not capable of manufacturing something like that. Not without someone else's help. And since none of the rogues I can think of with that kind of expertise have been named as being involved, it must have been a doctor."

"No doctor at Arkham would willingly be involved with that psychotic clown."

Interesting choice of words there. "How about unwillingly?"

Sharp said nothing, fiddling with his cane. Finally, he spoke. "I'm not at liberty to comment. There were some legal proceedings involved."

Well, there's ways around that. "Of course. Just tell me one thing: is this doctor still alive?"

Sharp hesitated. "Yes. But that's all I'll say on this matter."

I think I've found my murderer. "How many people at the asylum knew about this project?"

"Is that really relevant?"

Did Sharp want Edward's help with this case or not? Edward spoke slowly, as if he were speaking to a small child. "It's relevant Warden, because whoever left these letters wants information from you regarding what happened at the asylum and who was involved. If they already know about the TITAN, then they would already know who this doctor is and wouldn't need to send anything to you."

Dennis snorted a bit. Sharp shot him a withering glare and the poor security guard looked down at his feet. Sharp turned back to Edward. "Only myself and our most senior staff knew. I don't know how Joker found out about it."

Edward had a few guesses, but none of them were strictly relevant. Yet. Still, this information did rule a few people out. And a lot of people in. He was looking for someone relatively low level, but who had enough knowledge of asylum security to be able to avoid being detected. Edward closed his notebook and put it back into his pocket. He had work to do, starting with finding the 'murderous' doctor. "I think I have all the information I need for now," he said, addressing Sharp, Kocen and Dennis. "I'd like to take the letters with me for further examination. And I'll need that list as soon as possible."

"Of course." Sharp nodded. Kocen quickly gathered up the letters and placed them back into the briefcase, then handed it to Edward. Edward turned to leave when Sharp's voice called him back.

"Edward, there's one more thing. I'm having a benefit for my campaign this Friday evening at Lacey Towers. Most of my senior staff will be attending. I'd like you to be there as well, to assist with security."

Edward considered this. There were many places he'd rather be than at a political fundraiser with Quincy Sharp, but this would allow him the opportunity to observe the staff without having to set foot near Arkham. And there'd be media presence too. Always a positive thing.

"Very well," Edward agreed. "What time should I be there?"

"Dennis can meet with you at six." Sharp turned to Dennis. "Is that alright Dennis?"

Dennis looked a little bug eyed at Edward. "Yeah, sure Mr. Rid-Mr. Nigma, sorry."

Edward let the Freudian slip go. Dennis wasn't the first and he certainly wouldn't be the last. "I'm looking forward to it already," he said dryly.

A knock at the door interrupted their meeting. The staffer that Edward had frightened away earlier poked his head inside, blanching a bit when he noticed Edward was still there. "Jack Ryder is here, Mr. Sharp."

"Oh good," Sharp said, getting up out of his chair. "I have an interview scheduled with him. Care to join me Edward? We can announce our partnership together."

Edward grinned. "Lead the way, Warden."

"Have you thought any more about Commissioner Gordon's offer?"

Dr. Penelope Young, former head of research at Arkham, now returned to private practice, looked up from her cup of tea to the other woman sitting across from her. She frowned slightly before answering.

"I have, Joan."

"And?"

Penelope sighed. "I don't think I'm going to take it."

"Why not?"

Penelope looked back down at her cup. She hadn't actually taken a sip of it. "I don't understand why Gordon wants me to consult with the GCPD. I shouldn't still have my license after what happened at the asylum." I shouldn't even be alive, she thought. The bomb that Joker had placed in Sharp's safe should have killed her. It nearly had, even after Batman had pulled her away in time. She'd been in the hospital for weeks afterwards, and when she'd gotten out, there was an inquiry waiting for her. Much to her surprise, she'd been cleared of all legal liability and had been allowed to resign. The board had even agreed to keep her name out of the official report on the incident. Probably to keep people from taking too close a look at Arkham's medical practices, she'd thought cynically. She had taken a long sabbatical after that, in order to recover from the incident. Physically, she had recovered. Mentally however? She would still wake up at night in a cold sweat, visions of the Joker and of the monsters she'd helped him create as clear to her as the night she'd first seen them. Still, she was lucky compared to other people. Too many other people. I shouldn't even be alive.

Joan's voice cut through her thoughts. "You have a lot of experience working with the super criminals. That can help out the GCPD quite a bit."

"So do you, Joan."

Joan Leland shrugged. "You've also got a lot of insight into how Sharp's been running the asylum. I don't have that."

Penelope nodded slightly at that. Joan had been a mentor to her when she'd started interning at the asylum. She'd resigned about a month after Sharp had taken over, citing concerns with the direction Sharp was taking the asylum. If Penelope had had any sense, she would have gone with her.

"Besides," Joan continued. "That's not what's really bothering you."

Penelope idly swirled the tea cup around. "Fine," she admitted. "I don't think I'm ready for a position like this."

"If not now, when?" Joan prodded. "You've been shut away in private practice for months. Other than me and your patients, you've barely seen or talked with anyone. You hardly even leave your apartment anymore when you don't see patients. I have to come here to see you. You can't tell me that you're happy with that."

Penelope frowned a bit. "I'm not unhappy. I just..." She paused, trying to figure out the best way to phrase this without alarming her former mentor. "I don't think I can trust my own judgement anymore. It's one thing with my private patients. But with criminals...I overestimated my abilities before and people died. I can't risk that again."

Joan reached over and placed a hand on Penelope's shoulder reassuringly. "I understand that. Better than you might think. But you can't let that control your life Penelope. You've been given a second chance. This may be the opportunity you need to get your life on track again."

Penelope looked up and smiled at her, faintly. "I'll think about it." Joan smiled at her and got up to wash out her tea cup.

"I got a call from Sharp the other day," Penelope said when Joan returned to her seat in the living room.

"Really? What did he want?"

"He invited me to his campaign benefit Friday night. He's called up pretty much everyone from the asylum to come. I think he's going to try to ask me to come work for him again."

"And what did you say?"

Penelope took a sip from her cup finally. "I told him I'd think about the benefit. As for a job offer, that's a definite no. I can't see that place again."

"Good." Joan said. "I know I've said that your ambition could be a good thing, but Arkham under Sharp brings out the worst in you."

Penelope had to agree with that. "I think it brings out the worst in everyone. Sharp said I could bring a guest. Would you want to come?"

Joan shrugged. "Why not? It'll be good to see some of the staff again. And it would be good for you to get out a bit."

Penelope couldn't help but roll her eyes a bit as she reached for the television remote. She appreciated Joan's visits and her insights, she really did, but she could be worse than her mother at times. Still, Penelope thought. It may be nice to get out for a change. She'd never been especially close to any of her former co-workers, but it would be good to see them again. At least none of her former patients would be there. As soon as the TV powered on, she changed it to the Gotham News Network. Speak of the Devil, Jack Ryder was doing an interview at Sharp's campaign headquarters with Sharp himself...and someone Penelope never thought she'd see anywhere near Sharp.

"I'm Jack Ryder and I'm here with Mayoral Candidate Quincy Sharp and surprise guest, The Riddler himself."

"Pleasure as always Ryder," Nigma interrupted. "But it's Edward Nigma, private investigator now."

"Right," Ryder said, not really caring. "So, what brings you to Sharp's campaign? Bringing out the former super villain vote?"

"Now now Mr. Ryder," Sharp said, awkwardly patting Nigma on the back. Even through the TV screen, Penelope could see the former rogue tense at the contact. "Everyone deserves a second chance. Mr. Nigma's reformation is proof that our methods at Arkham work. As a matter of fact, to show there are no hard feelings between us, Mr. Nigma will be at my campaign benefit Friday night to collaborate with us on security and-"

Penelope dropped her tea cup onto the floor in shock.