7. Realization

"What are you using to get out those bloodstains?," The Riddler asked, watching over the poor, scared maid's shoulder. She answered quietly, and he nodded. "Hm. I'll keep that in mind..." He walked away from the young woman then, going to sit down at the workdesk that had previously been covered in pieces of animals. But, at that moment, the desk was practically shining. Edward pushed a few of the many candles on the desktop away. He'd found the candles in a cabinet at the back of the warehouse and had taken the liberty of lighting them and scattering them all around the place. He sighed, leaning back and resting his feet on the desk. Just as he made himself comfortable, he heard a knock at the door. "Oh, look, someone's here..." The maid looked up, terrified. Edward made no move to answer the door. Why should he? If Jonathan couldn't get past the new security system, then, well, perhaps he simply wasn't smart enough to work with The Riddler... Just as that thought passed through Edward's mind, though, the door opened. Edward frowned. "You... answered the riddles correctly."

"Yes."

"I made them easy for you!"

"Of course you did." The Scarecrow stepped into the room, shutting the door behind himself. If the maid was terrified before, she was certainly beyond horrified upon seeing Scarecrow. And, she had reason to be: after all, it was highly improbable that she would be leaving that warehouse unharmed... It was a stretch of imagination to hope that she would even leave alive.

The Riddler took his feet off the desk, indignant. "Kayla, here, has just cleaned the entryway. The last thing we need is you dragging in mud all over the floor..." Edward tilted his head, noticing something else. "What is that on your arm?"

Jonathan glanced at the arm Edward was asking about. "This is Nightmare."

"You never said anything about a pet! Where did you get that thing?"

"An old church. Many years ago."

The bird ruffled its feathers, eyeing Edward before letting out a loud, "Caw!"

"You couldn't find a normal pet, at least?," The Riddler asked, sure that the bird's 'caw'-ing would be a constant thing. Especially at night, when Edward was trying to sleep. "It had to be a crow?"

"What else would it be?"

"Well, you don't exactly strike me as the kind of man who keeps pets. But, I suppose something like a rat or a crow would have been my guess if I'd been told you did keep one." Edward cringed as the crow let out another obnoxious 'caw'. "I think I would have preferred a rat, though."

"There are plenty of those around here, too. But, I catch them solely for experimentation purposes."

"Lovely..." Edward frowned, pulling the brim of his new bowler hat down. "And, by the way, the furniture will be here in a few hours. And, you are strictly forbidden to make contact with the couch until you rinse all of that mud off, dry yourself off, and stop bleeding."

Scarecrow lowered his arm, and the crow, Nightmare, flew off toward the back of the lair. The Scarecrow removed his mask, setting it on the desk. "I am going to need chemicals."

"Are you asking me for money?" The Riddler smiled smugly. "That's always what it comes down to, isn't it? Money..."

"I have enough chemicals left from past operations to easily hit a bank or department store or something of the type. If you want to wait until The Joker is out of the picture, though, then I suggest you just give me the money."

"Of course," said The Riddler. "But, I'm coming with you."

"What?"

"Well, I don't know the prices of chemicals these days. So, you can't expect me to know how much money to entrust you with, Jonathan. Besides, I need to make sure that you don't blow the money on things you don't need..."

"Poisons, you mean."

"No, not necessarily!" Edward wasn't about to admit that he was paranoid. That was exactly what Jonathan wanted, after all. "I just want to make sure you buy only what you need."

"And, how will you know what, exactly, I need?"

"Well, naturally, I'll expect you to provide the explanations and equations."

Jonathan Crane scowled. "You can't afford to leave the hideout for the next few hours. You've already made that clear."

"Yes, so we'll just have to wait until tomorrow." Edward picked up the Scarecrow mask, which was drenched with water. "Why don't you go make yourself a new mask? This thing is going to shrink five sizes by the time it dries... What bridge did you drive off? It smells like saltwater. I'm sure that wound of yours loved that..."

"Where did all the straw go?," Scarecrow asked, suddenly noticing just how different the floor looked.

"Kathy threw it out," Edward answered, gesturing toward the maid. "It was cluttering the place up."

"That straw belonged to me," Jonathan said. "It wasn't yours to throw away."

"Well, you shoulda told Caylie that before you left."

"The maid wasn't here before I left, Edward."

"Well, that's not my fault."

"Yes, it is, actually."

"Caroline, get over here!," Edward demanded. The maid, whose nametag clearly read 'Cameron', stood up meekly and stepped toward the two infamous criminals. "Why did you throw out all the straw?"

The maid stood completely still. What was she supposed to do? If she told the truth - that The Riddler had instructed her to throw anything that looked like it belonged in a barn straight into the garbage - then she would be in trouble with The Riddler. If she said that she'd thrown the straw away based on her own judgement, then she'd have to face the wrath of the Scarecrow...

"What do you know, she's gone mute," Edward mused.

"She is only mute with fear... How much has she done?"

"She's been working for hours. That area over there..." Edward waved toward the place by the entrance that still looked like a natural disaster had touched down in the old warehouse. "...is all that's left. We started at the back. In that thing that passes for your laboratory."

"What do you plan on doing after she's finished?"

"Asking a riddle, of course. If she gets it right, then I'll pay her and let her go. But, when she gets it wrong... I suppose she'll have to be shot." The maid closed her eyes quickly.

"How wasteful. My research could benefit from such a healthy specimen..."

The Riddler raised an eyebrow. "I thought you needed more chemicals."

"I need more to plan a grand-scale operation. I can always make do for small research experiments..."

"Well, then... I suppose I can't hinder the Doctor's research. You've heard the deal, Carla. In fact, I'll go ahead and give you my riddle, so you can think about it... Ten minutes to finish cleaning and give me an answer. Fair enough?" Of course, the maid didn't have the nerve to reply. "Well, then, Carmen, riddle me this: what is it that no man wants to have yet no man wants to lose? Your time starts now."

The Scarecrow started toward his laboratory to prepare his toxin.

"Wait, Jonathan, you've got a pocketwatch, right? Can I borrow it?" Edward caught the watch that was thrown in his direction. "Alright, see you in exactly ten minutes!" Jonathan left, and Edward placed the watch on the desk, smiling as the seconds ticked by.

The maid had originally intended to clean the last bit of the place as slowly as possible. But, with The Riddler's time limit, she supposed it didn't matter much if she cleaned faster. Maybe cleaning would help her think.

Tik. Tik. Tik. Tik. "Have an answer for me yet? Only five minutes left..."

The maid frowned. She'd never been good at logic puzzles... She hadn't done a crossword for years... And, she'd never actually finished one. As for riddles, well, they weren't exactly a part of everyday life...

Tik. Tik. Tik. The figure in the small circle at the bottom of the pocketwatch raised a scythe and cut the invisible grain in front of itself with every second that ticked by. "Two minutes..."

What is it that no man wants to have yet no man wants to lose?

Tik. Tik. "Thirty seconds."

The maid threw the last few scattered papers into the garbage bag and put a hand to her head. Cleaning always helped her think...

Tik. "Three... Two... One. I need an answer. What have you got for me?"

She watched the floor as she said, "Life?" She paused. "Money? It's the root of all evil, but no one wants to lose..."

"No, no, no, only one answer." The Riddler waggled his finger chidingly. "Not that it would matter for you, since both guesses were wrong." He stood himself up, walking over to her. "Now, now, don't be afraid... At least not of me. My job is just to get you to your appointment with Doctor Crane..." He ushered the poor woman through the whole hideout - the place she'd singlehandedly cleaned... He called out crisply as they entered the very back of the place, where Scarecrow's lab tables were set up, "Oh, Jonathan, your patient is here..."

"Right on time," the Scarecrow whispered, materializing out of the shadows of the dark lab. Somehow, he looked more frightening when he was completely prepared to work. He was wearing an old labcoat that was stained around the edges of the arms with chemicals, blood, and some unidentifiable things... A latex glove covered his right hand, and the needle-fingered glove of the Scarecrow covered his left.

The Riddler clicked his tongue, pushing the young maid farther into the room. "She couldn't answer. Guessed 'life'. Ha! The answer is obviously..."

"A lawsuit."

"You just interrupted me."

"If you would let it go, I wouldn't have had to." The Scarecrow flexed the fingers of his left hand, moving the needles. "I can handle the patient. Leave."

"What? No! I've never seen you at work, Jonathan. I'd wager that not many people have. I'm staying."

"You won't want to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The Joker won't even watch me operate..."

"...Really?" The Riddler wondered how bad it could be. True, he couldn't really watch an entire horror movie if things got really graphic, but... That was just movie stuff. That was different. Things didn't really happen like that. He'd watched people die before. "Are you saying that I've got less tolerance for violence than The Joker?"

The Scarecrow grabbed the petrified maid's arm and pulled her toward the center of the room. "Yes."

"Alright, well, that's probably true. But, it's just fear. I mean, seriously, what could happen?"

"The gas triggers fears. The worst fears. It makes you see exactly the last thing you would ever want to see. But, the newest toxin I've developed... Does the cruelest thing it can: it does not paralyze victims with fear. And, when people are not frozen with fear... They are forced to react."

"Okay," Edward said, still not sure what the big deal was.

"If you must stay, then go fill this tank up with water."

"Why?"

"Surely you believe in mercy to those who have done no wrong."

Edward picked up the rectangular, clear, plastic tank that was on the nearest table. "Sometimes. I'm surprised you do, though."

"I don't. But, if I don't kill her while the gas is still in her system, I won't be able to study its effects on her brain."

"...Oh," The Riddler said, pouring a gallon-jug of water into the tank. Well, she had to die some way, he reasoned, pouring a second and third jug into the tank. While Edward was busy filling the tank, the Scarecrow pressed one of the needle-fingers against the young woman's arm, injecting the toxin into her. The Riddler filled the tank up, about three-quarters of the way, before he decided that there was enough water in there, and he tried to pick it up. "I can't lift this, Jonathan!" But, instead of a reply, he heard two sounds - so perfectly melded together that they could have been just one. An earsplitting scream and a chilling, piercing, high-pitched laugh. "...Jonathan?"

The Scarecrow was standing over the young woman, with a look on his face that Edward had certainly never seen before: pure, unrestrained joy. The woman screamed. "NO! NO, NO, PLEASE! GET AWAY FROM ME! GET AWAY!" Each word only made Jonathan Crane laugh harder.

The Riddler wasn't sure whether to be afraid of Jonathan's sudden change in behavior or to be impressed by the effectiveness of the toxin... But, as soon as the woman's fingernails touched her own skin, Edward turned away, feeling nothing but nausea. He was thankful that the Scarecrow's laughter drowned out the sounds of the woman ripping her own skin open. Oh, he had been so wrong... So horribly, horribly wrong... When he'd said that Jonathan wasn't insane... God, no... Oh... But, he couldn't be wrong. Edward Nigma was never wrong... That was impossible... That would mean that he failed... He couldn't fail. He couldn't fail. He... No, Jonathan Crane was just evil. Evil, evil, evil. But, perfectly sane. Of course, if anyone but himself had said so, Edward Nigma wouldn't have believed it.

After what seemed like an eternity of nothing but screaming and laughing and pain and evil, he heard the splash of water. The Scarecrow's laughter didn't die out; it ended abruptly. At the same time that the woman being drowned stopped struggling. "Well, that should produce interesting results..."

Edward nodded. "...Yeah..."

"Are you staying to assist with the dissection, as well?"

"Di-what?"

"How else did you think I was going to be able to study the toxin's effects on her brain?"

"...I think I'm gonna be sick," Edward mumbled, hurrying from the room. This was not what he had bargained for. He'd left Arkham with Jonathan Crane, a man who liked nursery rhymes, liked fear, and also just happened to be cruel. He hadn't planned on that man changing to Jonathan Crane, a man who loved fear, was exceedingly cruel, and also just happened to like nursery rhymes - which, now that Edward thought about it, most nursery rhymes were, indeed, very cruel. What kind of children's rhyme should sing about babies in treetops that fall to their doom? 'Rockabye, Baby,' indeed. If I were a baby, I'd never get to sleep with songs like those!

Edward grabbed his cane and left the hideout. Could he go through with this partnership? It certainly seemed to be filled with risks... But, Jonathan had certainly never gone through with any threats that were directed directly toward Edward... And, really, The Riddler realized that they were both criminals. Their behavior wasn't supposed to be acceptable by society. But, really, it wasn't the killing that bothered him. They'd given her a chance, after all. She was just too stupid to answer the riddle correctly! The puzzles, the real justice of the world, had justly decided that she didn't have the right to live. And, Edward had just been going to shoot her. At least her body had some use in scientific research... Besides, Jonathan had drowned her before she could kill herself. And, she'd been so drugged with fear that she probably hadn't felt any pain... Really, there was nothing to be appalled about at all! The Riddler made his way back around the block and entered the answers to a few riddles on the keypad next to the hideout door. As soon as he walked in, he saw Jonathan Crane seated at the desk by the entrance.

Jonathan wore a disapproving look. "I did warn you to leave before I started."

"Yes, I know. I think I might have eaten some bad food or something. A man who jokes to psychiatrists about cutting the legs off babies really can't be put out over something like that."

The Scarecrow nodded. "I heard about that. It isn't often that someone in Arkham says something so outrageous that the whole penitentiary hears."

"It was just a riddle, really. One of the oldest ones in the book: the Sphinx's 'What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?' Nothing to freak out about."

"People are strange. It's taboo to talk about violence at all, and then when you say that the violence is happening to an infant..."

"It was all theoretical, anyway! I never said that I, personally, was going to go cut off a baby's legs then give it a cane. I understand what Harley and The Joker mean when they say people can't take a joke!"

Jonathan nodded serenely. "Your answer makes much more sense than the original one, anyhow. Saying that a human is the answer makes the question so much more complicated than it really is."

Edward grinned. "Well, had someone like Harley said that, I wouldn't note it. But, coming from the great, never-give-a-compliment Crane, I am going to let that comment go straight to my head."

"Please. You let everything go straight to your head. I'm surprised the weight of it all doesn't send you tumbling down."

"That," The Riddler answered, "is what I carry a cane for."

Scarecrow stood, examining the area around himself. "What time did you say you ordered the furniture to be here?"

"Around three-fifteen."

"Ah. So, it should arrive at about seven o' clock tonight."

"If those idiots are here one minute later than four, they'll be wishing they hadn't shown up at all." The Riddler paced across the room before turning back to the Scarecrow. "So, what's for lunch?"

"I thought you went 'shopping'."

"Well, you don't have a refrigerator... And, we won't have power until tomorrow - I've got some guys working on that. So, I only got some non-refrigeration-needing things... Chips, peanut butter, some bread... Hang on." He walked over to the bags, sifting through them. "Here we go... Um, some crackers... More chips... A different kind of bread... Chips... Popcorn... Candy... Chocolate... Chips..."

"Why don't you eat some of that?"

"Well, what are you going to eat?"

"Nothing. I'm not hungry."

"Now that has to be a lie. You never eat, Jonathan. Not once have I ever seen you eat a thing in all my time in Arkham. Seriously, do you have an eating disorder?"

"No. I simply do not need the amount of food that most people in this country today seem to think they need."

"Okay, part of that might be true. Lots of people over-eat today... But, you never eat at all. Humans have to eat. The average person can't live much longer than two weeks without food."

"I'm used to fasting."

"You're fasting?"

"Most of the time. And, when I'm not, I certainly don't eat anything that you bought."

"What's wrong with what I bought?"

"It's processed."

"So what do you eat, then?"

"Vegetables."

"Are you kidding me? How are you alive: most vegetables don't have any calories! They don't give you energy! Why would you do that to yourself? There's no way you can go so long without food! I mean, you've got no fat, probably next-to-no muscle... You should die within two days of not having food!"

"I'm still alive."

"When was the last time you had real food?"

"If by 'real', you mean something that is not purchasable at a farmers' market, then never."

Edward frowned. "Never? Not even when you were a kid...?"

"Never."

The Riddler stared at the older man, face completely blank. "Did you grow up on a farm or something?"

"No," Scarecrow answered. "In an apartment, in an alley."

"Were your parents health-freaks?"

"I wouldn't know."

Edward took in a quick breath. "They died?"

"No. Just did not want a son."

"...Who raised you?"

"My grandmother."

"Oh. Is she still around?"

"No. Died the day I graduated high school."

"...Do you miss her?"

"As much as anyone might be able to miss someone who thought he was Satan incarnate."

Edward froze for a second. "Oh... wow... But, that was a long time ago, right?"

"Yes... About twenty years ago. Maybe more. I don't keep track anymore." The Scarecrow tapped a few fingers on the top of the desk. "My past is nothing important. It's simple."

The Riddler shook his head. "It doesn't sound simple. My past is simple. I hate simple things. I've just got the typical 'mother died, father became a drunk' story. Typical child abuse scenario. But, I didn't want a simple life, so I reached out to puzzles and games. I delved into complexity, making my own mind as different from my simple past as I could. I made myself the complex genius I am today. You're different. You are a complex almost-genius not by your own choosing but by an extraordinarily complex past. Tell me about it."

"No," answered Jonathan.

Edward crossed his arms, making a sour face. "Oh, come on! It was almost one of those nice 'feel-sympathy-for-the-killer-because-he-has-a-horribly-saddening-backstory' moments!"

"That is an awfully specific type of moment."

"You know what I mean! I told you about my past earlier - even though you apparently already knew... That's not fair, Jonathan! Tell me! I want to know!"

"That doesn't surprise me."

"What do you mean?"

"You said so yourself. You find me to be 'complex'. You're looking at me like I'm a riddle that needs to be solved. You desperately need to know the answer, and if you can't find the answer, you'll feel that you have failed. Remember that phobia?"

"I remember! But, why shouldn't I treat you like a riddle? You treat me like I'm just a walking bag of fear!"

"A walking bag of fear with another equally-sized bag of arrogance on top as your head."

Edward narrowed his eyes to take a moment to be furious... Then the moment was over. "Alright, we're going out to eat!" He tapped his cane on the leg of the desk. "Come on: let's go!" The Scarecrow made no attempt to move. "What's the problem?"

"Several problems, actually. One: we don't have a car. Two: if we go too far then we won't be back before three-fifteen. And, three: I realized about five minutes ago that I've lost all feeling in my leg."

"Already? It hasn't even been a day..." The Riddler set his question-mark cane down by the door. "Where, exactly, did the bullet hit?"

"I'm not certain. I haven't had the time to properly examine it."

"Oh, wonderful... This wouldn't be a big deal if we had furniture already, but since there's nothing for you to lie down on..."

"We would not have this problem if my straw were still here."

"You slept on straw?"

"Of course. Many animals do. It's quite comfortable."

"Somehow I doubt that." Edward furrowed his brow, trying to get his genius brain to come up with an idea. Think, genius brain, think... "Well, the bullet couldn't have hit a nerve if your leg was working up until now... Unless it struck very close to a nerve, and then moved after strenuous activity - killing someone might make that happen."

"That is highly improbable."

"Maybe. But, there's a chance. And, if that's true... Then we're going to have to remove the bullet... Which means that I win that little bet we made..."

The Scarecrow was unamused. "If you pay for everything, then why should I care if all the money goes to you?"

Edward shrugged. "I don't care about the money, either. But, I was right! That's all that matters!"

"If only you had been shot instead of me."

"Well, yes, that would have been easier, since you could have done an operation or something... But, we'll make do. I can bind a wound: I've seen it done before! And, removing a bullet can't be too hard! You just reach in there and pull it out, right?"

Jonathan Crane stared at the ceiling. "We might as well go ahead and amputate the leg, now."

"Oh, shut up! I can figure this out! I'll just think of it like a maze: avoid all of the nasty, bloody stuff and get to the bullet."

"Just kill me."

"No. I've already made my riddle for the day we attack your school. If you die, now, then I'll be left alone with a riddle that needs to be broadcasted, but I won't want to go after a university. No. That won't work. You are living. I've just gotta go find a book on how to operate... You know what? Better idea. I'll help you go back to the laboratory so that you can lie down on one of those tables. Then I'll just go kidnap a doctor. Simple!"

"If you leave a riddle behind..."

"Well, you can't expect me not to leave something behind, Jonathan! It's what I do!"

"Then be smart about it, at least."

"How?"

"Frame someone else."

Edward tilted his head, looking thoughtful. "That would be puzzling, wouldn't it? ...That might actually work..."