Who: Eddie Nigma with an appearance of NPC!Arthur Brown Where: Slaughter Swamp When: Monday morning What: Riddler tracks down who's been sending him clues Warnings: A little violence
Slaughter Swamp was the kind of place people went to dump bodies. It spanned out in a grotesque fan of dirty water, rotting trees and dangerous creatures just outside of the Gotham city limits. While this new city was too blue, too cold for the Riddler, Slaughter Swamp hadn’t changed one bit. Manmade things were filled with so many variables, one Riddler death trap was different from the next in changing canons, but the organics of a place boiled down to the same mushy goop. For that familiarity, he liked it here. He liked the cracked, slush water that was probably riddled with old blood and broken needles. He liked the spider thin trees heavy with snow and cut with bullet holes. Old Gotham was lawless sometimes, but out here beyond the streetlamps, the only people killing each other were other criminals. Other thieves. Other madmen. Well, that suited him just fine.
Two mornings ago, after leaving his apartment and Stephanie behind, he walked straight to the dry cleaners that he used as a base of operations for the plague. He chatted with the wife who survived about her husband who didn’t and offered some free help if he could go through pockets of coats, pants and suits that mobsters and criminals brought in to be washed no questioned asked. He spent his break playing cards with Frank behind the boilers sweating in their undershirts, talking about what needed to be done. He spent the night running around chasing leads and asking questions. He got lonely sometimes, tapping codes into his comm to Stephanie that were simple words he wanted her to know. He watched Old Gotham from behind the dry cleaners counter, seeing it more of his city now than he did before Vegas.
This was all a hunt while being hunted and while Arthur Brown was an experienced criminal enough to keep his head down, Eddie was really good at reeling in fish. So, by the second night he and Frank shook down a man who did running for Arthur. Told him where to meet Eddie and that since this was a personal matter there wasn’t a need for a shoot out. Frank wanted to come along, he even bought a new shotgun for such an occasion, but Eddie wanted to do this right. Slaughter Swamp was the only true neutral ground they had and it was a gesture of good faith instead of danger. Whether or not Artie planned to take advantage of that remained to be seen.
The Riddler was dressed in something classic and bright green, his bowler hat pulled low over his brow to indicate a sinister rumble that may or may not be boiling under his skin. Who could tell anymore? Or ever? His cane, brass and shiny, was classic too. This was the first time he took it out of the apartment. He liked the bulky usefulness of his other one; the cane he smashed Stephanie’s face in months and months ago. It could light things on fire, it could calculate and hack. But, out here in Slaughter Swamp, there was no need for that. No this cane was more for show like a ceremonial sword that was sharp, but not meant to cut. Needless to say, he was feeling nostalgic. And, that was good. He could use that. Because Arthur Brown was nothing but nostalgia that needed to be crushed.
His mind buzzed quiet of all the variables of that crisp morning and he focused on this place he knew so well. Out across the swamp he could almost see the hulking form of Solomon Grundy rising from dirty water with steam on his back. His white skin dull in contrast to the glistening snow. His monster hands grasping for something dark and long-eared to crush and crunch.
“Born on a Monday.” Riddler whispered to the mirage only he could see. “Christened on Tuesday.” Grundy’s bright red eyes searching the dead swamp for something else that could be alive. “Married on Wednesday.” Howling in a scream that would make any woman faint. “Took ill on Thursday.” Monstrous feet the size of dogs stamping through the perfectly iced leaves until brown bubbled up. “Grew worse on Friday.” It saw him now, the imaginary monster saw Riddler in his bright green that mocked this snowy graveyard. “Died on Saturday.” He rushed closer, gnashing his teeth hungrily. Riddler’s whisper turned playfully harsh, worried. “Buried on Sunday.” Grundy reached out his hulking arms for the green man’s neck. Close enough that Riddler could smell the monster’s breath. Close enough that he could see the black, dried sludge on his square teeth.
“Was that the end of Solomon Grundy?” Riddler asked the empty air. The quiet swamp that smelled like the inside of a fifty year old freezer. Smirk on his lips, pleased that he changed the last line. Just enough to make it a question. Always eager to leave his riddled mark on everything he touched.
A twig snapped behind him, followed by the sound of a jangling, large gun being hoisted up and heavy boots on iced grass. Eddie turned perfectly like a gentleman on a music box and his eyes darted up to Arthur’s face. He looked younger, they both did and this Gotham had made him strong and imposing. Arthur had always been good muscle. “I really hope we’re just here to talk.” Riddler said innocently, eyeing the gun with a wide, rumbling dark gaze. “That’s a lot of boomstick for little ol’ me.”
“Well, you’re always full of surprises, Riddler.” Arthur said proudly with another step closer, gun higher to prove he meant business. But, Riddler wasn’t impressed. His brow quirked, body slumping up against an ancient, decaying tree as he started spinning his old cane at such a rapid pace it turned into a brass blur. Like a rattlesnake shaking his tail at a predator. He sighed, teeth running over his bottom lip in thought, mimicking the way people looked when they were trying to figure out how to start a conversation. Eddie knew. He had all the variables planned out in a flow chart in his head. And, Arthur looked like he didn’t have a clue how the first step was going to go.
“The surprise is that there isn’t a surprise.” Eddie said finally, voice dry and aloof like a sarcastic magician. “What did you expect me to do? Threaten you for wasting my time with that garbage scavenger hunt? Kill you because Stephanie would be better off if you were dead and gone in this filthy swamp with all the other two-bit criminals?” His voice jumped angrily, licking with fire, before settling back down to a gentle straight-jacket murmur. “I thought about it. I think about a lot of terrible things.”
Arthur snapped as Eddie’s voice settled. Stance like a yard dog who was tired of getting his dinner stolen by the local coyote. And he aimed the gun higher, right at the green bowler hat, eyes glistening with the fear and anger of a man who was willing to end it now. “You’re afraid Stephanie is going to find out? How much does she know about you Nigma? What bullshit did you tell my little girl?” Arthur was screaming now, his voice vibrating melted ice from the branches above. Face red and thick like someone was choking the life out of him. Eddie liked when he could see the kind of suffocating rage he could cause. It calmed him, straightened his back. Made him a better fighter than a scrawny hooligan should be.
“Come on, Artie. You know me. The things I’ve done aren’t a mystery.” He could hear mayhem violins rising in the back of his mind. The hum of an orchestra that once told him to torment the weak now urging him to challenge the bold. “It’s what I’m about to do that’ll really keep you guessing.” And his whirring cane came to a sudden stop, snapping forward to hit the large gun out of Arthur’s hands before knocking out his kneecaps and slamming the handle of the cane into Arthur’s face with savage brutality. As expected, the swamp rustled alive with three (a good prime number!) goons that had been waiting to pounce on Nigma once things got out of hand. He drove his cane down on Arthur again with every ounce of strength his little body had before kicking him away and brandishing his pearled revolver. A younger Nigma might have hesitated a second, but he knew Gotham well enough that a moment of weakness was a good way to get dead.
Bang, bang, and the two men holding guns were down. The one with a bat rushed Eddie fiercely, but he was just making the target on his legs easier to shoot. Bang, and the swamp was quiet save the bloodied pleadings of Arthur and his men. Eddie holstered his revolver, taking his bowler hat off and smoothing his hand over his hair before he rolled Arthur over on his back. “Artie? Artie look at me.” In that moment, Riddler was all criminal royalty. A Slaughter Swamp King supplying blood for his imaginary Grundy’s glorious rise from the dead. Arthur was dazed, but not out for the count. Bested, again, by a superior. “I said I just want to talk. So, let’s go back to Gotham and talk. I’ll even pay for your boys’ medical bills.” Riddler was the alpha dog, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be generous. “Stephanie will be happy to know you’re alive. We can sort out our differences and she’ll never have to know about this little incident.”
Arthur blinked up at him, swallowed and then nodded. Eddie’s expression softened and he straightened, holding a hand out to his old partner. The two man stared at each other, but then Artie’s eyes jumped past Riddler’s green shoulder. “GET HIM!” Artie screamed desperately, holding onto Riddler’s wrist to keep him still.