"I've conducted several test runs of the new batch of fear toxin and have been quite pleased with the results thus far."
Seated across from Edward at the diner, the man of fear discusses his latest sinister scheme.
"By adjusting the dosage and potency, the test subjects were able to achieve a sense of hysteria that could potentially last well up to forty-eight hours." Dr. Crane explains. "I only say potentially since none of the subjects have made it any more than thirty minutes before self termination."
Another week, another visit with Jonathan. Same table. Same waitress. Same overcooked eggs and a bowl of fresh fruit. Same old same old.
"Perhaps I should consider the use of restraints next time." Crane ponders. "Edward, what do you think?"
Chin resting in the palm of his hand, Edward stares at his uneaten breakfast. He pokes at the cold eggs with his fork. Too focused on his own thoughts to pay any attention to anything Jonathan has to say.
"Edward?" Growing annoyed, Crane repeats himself.
"Hmm? Yes, yes." Edward pretends to be listening. "Restraints are always... good."
Thoughts of Selina enter his mind. Memories of her tied up and sedated. Bait for the Bat. She had put up one hell of a fight, and in the end, it took over twenty Riddlerbots to restrain her. Not to mention, over twenty stitches after she tore into him.
...you've deserved it worse before...
There was a time when the thought of catching her in one of his many deadly traps filled him with excitement. Now it just makes him feel sick to his stomach with guilt.
"You seem distracted." With a snear, Jonathan points out.
And he is. Ever since he and Selina had gone their separate ways, she's all Edward can think of. That was four days ago, and he's just about driven himself mad trying to think up the perfect way to win her over.
"It's not a new invention." Jon rules out.
Fingers steepled at his lips, the man of fear ponders upon his table mate's unusual demeanor. Edward's typically much more chatty than this. Often gloating about some devious new plan or riddle-themed trap, but this is downright pitiful. The way that he's acting, Edward appears to be forlorn about something. But what?
"Oh, please tell me it's not a woman." Dr. Crane groans with a roll of his lifeless, sunken eyes. "Remember the last one? What a catastrophe that turned out to be."
It's true. Jennifer was a mistake.
Edward had thought he'd found the perfect woman. Beautiful. Educated. Though she made for a defiant hostage, she seemed to have it all. Except for love. That, she had none of for Edward.
The Riddler had wracked his brain trying to puzzle her out. He tried all the usual tricks. Expensive gifts. Flowers by the truck-load. Enough chocolates to put a diabetic into shock. He'd even held her father at gunpoint in hopes of forcing her love... To say the least, it didn't go well.
"This one's different." With a furrowed brow, Edward grumbles into his coffee. "I think I'm in love with her."
The answer was there all along. Often times, staring him right in the face. He can blame it on the booze all he likes, but it's time to face the truth.
He loves her.
He's always loved her. He was just too self-centered and too damn self-absorbed in his own idiotic quest to prove himself the smartest man in Gotham to realize it until now.
Jonathan sighs and removes his glasses. He doesn't say anything further, just sets to cleaning the lenses with his handkerchief in a very doctorly sort of way.
"Don't treat me like that." Edward groans.
"Like what?" Jonathan poses.
"Like I'm one of your patients." Ed explains, pointing his fork at him accusingly.
"Trust me. If you were my patient, you'd be screaming by now." Jon says darkly, returning his glasses to his prominently hooked nose. "As a fellow scientist, I'm merely concerned for your craft. Women are a distraction, Edward. An unnecessary complication to further you from your goals. Take my advice and bury her before she buries you."
"Thank you, but your dating advice is the last thing I need right now." Edward cringes.
Honestly, the guy gets off on the torture and torment of others. It's likely the good Doctor Crane even sleeps with his so-called patients. Postmortem, Edward would bet.
"What I really need is to answer this damn riddle." Ed tosses his fork down at his plate.
Those seated around them turn their heads at the noise, but Jonathan doesn't flinch. He doesn't even blink. As far as Edward's tantrums go, this doesn't even register.
"And what riddle would that be?" He wonders.
"How do I get her to love me back?" Arms crossed, Edward slumps in his chair and sulks.
"Then what are you doing having breakfast with me? There are no answers here, Edward." Jonathan extends, acting as the unlikely voice of reason. "Why not just call her up and get it over with? Ask her out on a date or some such nonsense."
"I could call her..." Edward scratches at his sideburns. "Although I'm terrified to think what she might say."
He can tell by the sudden spark of interest in his colleague's face that he'd misspoken.
"What I meant to say is, I'm apprehensive of her answer." The Riddler clarifies, much to the Scarecrow's displeasure. "She made it perfectly clear she's not looking for a relationship." He replies before adding, "I think she only wants me for my body."
With a raised brow, Jonathan stares at him skeptically from behind his horn-rimmed glasses.
"Oh, please, Edward." Jonathan sighs deeply. "No one wants that."
Something must have changed in her, too, Edward thinks to himself. If it were only physical affection, Selina could have gotten that itch scratched anywhere and from anyone. So why him? There has to be a reason.
I want you, Eddie...
Her voice still echoes in his head. Over and over and over...
"I need to do something... I don't know... romantic? Something bold. That would really get her attention somehow."
We're not normal people, Ed. I don't think the rules of society exactly apply to our unconventional lifestyles.
Selina was right. They're not normal. Never will be. So the rules of the game don't exactly apply here. He's playing on a whole different board than your average loser. Which is actually kind of exciting, if not a tad bit irritating.
"Are you sure it's the woman you want? Or are you only interested in the riddle?" Crane poses the question. "You do realize that once you find your answer, you're stuck with the results. Unless, of course, you kill her."
"Oh, trust me, I've tried to kill her. Many times. It never takes." Edward forces a smirk.
Stabbed. Shot. Gassed. Beaten but never broken. Maybe that Cat really does have nine lives. And maybe, just maybe, she can find it in her heart to forgive him just enough to spend but one of those nine lives with him.
"Well, color me interested. You've fallen for a woman you've attempted to destroy..." Jonathan trails as if deep in thought. "It's not that red-headed Bat brat, is it?"
"What!? God, no." Edward exclaims. He's disgusted that his colleague would even consider the thought. "She's one of us. Well, sort of. We hooked up at Harley's party."
Edward's eyes wander to the door. Though the man seated across from him is a psychologist... well... he was before he had his license stripped away... Edward doesn't feel all that comfortable bearing his soul to the guy. Or any white coat, for the record.
"And by hooked up, you mean... Intercourse." The colorful colloquialism is lost on the old-fashioned doctor.
"No. We went fishing. YES, Jonathan. We had sex." Edward snaps at him. "Selina and I... I don't know. We just really seemed to hit it off."
Edward watches as a young couple, late twenties or early thirties, maybe just a little younger than him, enter the diner.
"Selina... As in Kyle?" Jon wonders.
"Do you know any other Selinas?" Ed whines, eyes fixed on the couple as if he were studying them.
They seem so happy, so normal, as they flirt and they laugh. Edward finds himself envious. Those simpletons don't even know how easy they've got it.
"The Cat belongs to the Bat, Edward." Jonathan dismisses with a shake of his head.
"She does NOT belong to Batman." Edward slams his fist down with a very loud bang.
All the plates and utensils jump a good half inch off the table. As do all the patrons at the diner. With a collective gasp, they jump at Ed's outburst. Even the couple seated at the counter. The tension's so thick, Zsasz could cut it with a knife.
Visibly shaking with rage, Edward takes a deep breath to calm his nerves, and after a long, uneasy pause, he exhales.
"She doesn't belong to anyone." He states with false composure.
Is that jealousy I detect?
Reaching for the pot of coffee, Ed turns his tipped over mug upright and pours himself a fresh cup. Another deep breath and he takes a good, long sip.
"But soon, mark my words, she will belong to me."
The man of fear appears hardly impressed by the Riddler's posturing. Licking his thumb, he returns to skimming through the obituaries in the folded up newspaper on the table beside his cup of Earl Grey.
"Yes, well, good luck with that." He sighs lazily, eyes to the newsprint. "Just be sure to secure all your valuables before you go a-courting."
Edward gets up from the table and retrieves his wallet from his back pocket. He opens it and removes a ten dollar bill, tossing it down on the table beside his uneaten meal. With a smirk, he thinks of Selina and the twenty she'd stolen from him. How kind of her to leave him with a little spending money. At least enough to pay for breakfast.
"Now, that's some advice I can actually use." Edward remarks, taking a final sip of his coffee.
He turns to leave, but something about Jonathan's paper catches his eye. A headline that can't help but grab the Riddler's attention.
"Excuse me. I was reading that." The Scarecrow snarls as Edward plucks the pages from out of his clutches.
"I'm a type of card, but not a heart. Of an engagement ring, I am usually part." The Prince of Puzzles muses excitedly as he skims through the article in question. Inside his genius mind, a plan begins to take shape.
"Purrr-fect!"
