InsaneJournal

[A video file is emailed to Stephanie Brown. It’s remarkably short and the lighting is so dim it’s hard to make out the otherwise bright green splattered with dried blood on Riddler’s suit. The camera focuses and he’s strapped to a chair and wearing a bulky looking vest over his shoulders. He’s clearly been beaten, possibly even tortured, but the keenness in his eyes hasn’t gone out. There's the sharp noise of a safety being clicked off as a gun is pointed to his head by an unseen kidnapper and Eddie rolls his eyes up with a laugh.

“You don’t have to put a gun to my head to get me to tell a riddle.” His voice is worn and unwoven. Eddie sounds a lot older than he normally does; even a little older than he is physically. The gun’s barrel digs into his temple and his eyes go wide with sarcastic melodrama before he looks back at the camera. The dark anger in his gaze snaps away in little flickers and his voice softens. He has to make the riddle sound difficult, but keep it solvable with the power of the internet. “Riddle me this. What slough Karloff has a diurnal identity?” And then he grins brightly, mostly up to whoever is holding the gun before getting knocked out cold and the video ending abruptly.]

The video comes with a single message: You have 12 hours before I kill him.