Author's Note: Last Update until next week! Thank you for reading!
Disclaimer: If only I owned The Riddler…*sigh*
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Part 6
Patience is a virtue. And like most rogues, Edward Nymga neglected to have virtues, which left him pacing across the common room of his warehouse, toying with his hat, his mask, the cane, anything that he could get his hands on, nervously contemplating the outcome of his current situation. The hours had left him with little to do besides worry.
What if I have some inherited disorder? He bit on the end of his thumb. Oh my parents would be the ones to pass down some genetic abnormality as such. "What means everything to one person, but nothing to the rest of the world?" He mused cynically to himself, tapping the cane against the ground on the last syllable. The sound echoed through the room. "Your mind…" He said, answering his own query.
He had known something was wrong during his last big heist. His head was pounding, and he could hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. Upon arriving at the elite party he had intended on looting, he didn't feel right. The entrance to Wayne Manor began to spin, causing him to almost collapse right there.
Somehow he had worked through that spell, and succeeded in announcing his presence at the party, shedding his black jacket, revealing the green beneath. But his mind was still off; for a moment he had even forgotten who the Prince of Gotham, Bruce Wayne was! And then sometime after lifting everything valuable off of Bruce and his Russian supermodel date, he had blacked out.
The next time his eyes managed to fight there way open, he was greeted by pitch black, a freezing stone floor beneath him, and his green suit replaced with the usual orange Arkham jumpsuit. After a long stream of anagrammed curses, and a few anguished screams, The Riddler had settled down, accepting the fact that he was once again, in Arkham Asylum.
"Hey Riddles!" The Joker's high pitched squeal rang through Eddie ears. Already? The Riddler groaned. "Riddles!" He repeated with more menace.
"Yes Joker?" He finally responded, not wanting to get on The Joker's wrong side again. He recalled the previous time, where he had woken up dressed as a court jester, hung by his ankles from the ceiling.
"I got a riddle for ya!" He giggled to himself. The Riddler rolled his eyes.
"Do tell!" As exuberant as he could, The Riddler waited for the inmate next door's riddle.
"How do you stop a dog from barking in July?" The silence that followed was threatening.
"You shoot it in June, Joker." He responded after a few moments.
Screeching laughter followed. "Ah Riddles! You are a tricky one! Yes you are…" The laughter slowly subsided. "Hope your mind never goes, or you're going to be in a lot of trouble!" Never before in The Riddler's entire existence as a rogue had the Joker made as much sense as he did then.
Just remembering those words, The Riddler shook with both anger, and a bit of fear. Sometimes, it appeared that the Joker knew much more than he let on.
Ok, he said to himself, advancing towards the door leading to Doctor Capuano. Time to go see what the good doctor has for me; he opened the door, strolling through the doorway once again.
"Oh Doctor!" He called, striding in with mock confidence. The Riddler raised an eyebrow when there was no immediate response. "Allison?" He let her first name out, which he knew would get a rise out of her.
He approached the coach where he had left her, only to find the woman curled up on the couch among piles of books and papers, settled into what was surely a very uneasy sleep. He rolled his eyes. "Wake up!" He whacked his cane against the wooden table, the blunt, hollow noise pulling her from her slumber.
Doctor Capuano whimpered, her eyelids slowly parting. It took her a moment to realize where she was. When she remembered that she was currently being help captive by a hardened criminal, she sat straight up in a panic, holding a couch cushion close to her.
"Rise and shine," he grinned. "Have you made any progress?"
She blinked, "Not yet," she paused. "It would probably be a huge help to have an MRI done," She looked up at the masked man. "You wouldn't happen to have a spare MRI machine anywhere around here, would you?"
"Alas, I do not." He sighed. "I hoped it wouldn't be necessary." He whipped out another notebook from his pocket and began jotting down some notes of his own. How many mini notebooks does the man carry with him? Allison wondered, bemused by him.
"What are you doing?" She asked as innocently as she could manage.
He looked up for a moment, with an almost deranged look on his face. "Trying to figure out how we're going to get a damn MRI machine and Adding Twirlier." He said the last part with vigor.
What? Adding Twirlier? Allison officially knew that the Riddler was off his rocker. Noticing her confused expression, he rolled his eyes. "It's an anagram, I'm writing a riddle." Not that he really wanted to… He could not afford to be caught by the Bat in such a dire situation. But here he was, working on another riddle, that if properly figured out, would tell Batman what he was doing and where. After a few silent minutes, The Riddler stood up. "I'm going to go work on this," he gestured to the paper. "There is a bookcase over there," he pointed. "You can read if you so wish." And with that he left the room, leaving Allison alone once again.