detectivenigma (detectivenigma) wrote in newalliance, @ 2016-08-29 02:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | riddler |
Who: Edward Nygma (narrative)
When: Backdated, Wednesday, August 17th, 2016
Where: SHIELD holding cell, location unknown
What: Solitude
Rating: Low
In Arkham, they'd dubbed these kinds of rooms the "crazy pits." Windowless, steel doored, sometimes padded, sometimes not, often with a speaker somewhere far, far above. Depending on the doctor you'd been assigned to, various kinds of noises would be piped in, in varying degrees of loudness. Or ... the lights were turned off and you were left alone in the black silence.
Honestly, he'd preferred it noisy. It was in that deep blackness that he'd found his worst paranoia stirred into a frenzy. Without auditory or visual stimulation of any kind, he'd once resorted to breaking his hand, just go give himself something to concentrate on. The doctor had ordered him restrained and gagged when they'd found out, which had made it worse. Again, his mind had gone into overdrive, conjuring up delusions and even hallucinations. He'd thought too hard about the numbers of the inmates: they all spelled out a pattern, but one he couldn't decipher. Or he'd instead find himself turning to thoughts of new puzzles to inflict upon his most hated foe: The Batman.
When he did eventually break out, his mind was overflowing with such thoughts, all centered around revenge, destruction and his own sense of inflated superiority when it came to intelligence. With a raging ego and a list of new puzzle traps, he'd dive straight back into his villain career. And he'd clash with the Batman once more, and find himself back in Arkham. Back into the madness, screams and the company of those that were just like him.
All that work ... all that hard work to get yourself out of what you were and where did it land you?
He stirred, frowning, but not opening his eyes.
Another Crazy Pit.
Again, he shifted and tried to focus on something else.
You can hear me, idiot. We both know you can.
His eyes opened, but his vision felt blurry, an after effect of that sedative... It had been powerful... shot from a gun of all things. Something .. someone ... moved just out of his field of vision. Edward squinted at it as he sat up.
Crane was right. You could never reform.
Stiffening, he found himself staring at ...himself ... The figure moved forward. He was dressed in a version of one of his old suits, except it was ripped and smudge with dirt. It grinned at him, pushing up the goggles from its face. The grin was jarring, however, crazed and menacing.
"...Impossible," he mumbled, recoiling as the Other moved towards him.
Oh please. A scoff. Don't insult our intelligence, so many others have done so at their own peril.
"You're not me," he stubbornly insisted, frowning. "If anything you're ... a projection of impulse. A ... a figment of my imagination, brought upon by--"
By the after effects of whatever those agents shot you with? Again you insult both of us. If I'm a figment ... this figment was in the drivers seat for a little while back there. You know ... when you went looking where you weren't supposed to....?
Edward swallowed, hard. "That was ... a mistake. I wasn't focused."
No, no, you were focused, you were FINALLY focused on what mattered, instead of LYING to yourself.
His jaw clenched, eyes squeezing shut. "Stop."
And the voice was in his mind, menacing and sharp. You were FOCUSED. You were showing those bunch of ingrates what you were capable of, you were showing everyone why they should fear and worship you, why you're the most intelligent man in the world, and why---
"Stop, stop, stop, stop, STOP!"
You were even going to plant a clue, weren't you? Plant a little riddle for them to find later? If you'd kept focused on that, instead of that insipid woman's information request, you would have gotten it done! Frozen up their hardware for a few days while they focused on it, had to focus on it, had to solve it, all of them forced to realize that you were superior to them....
"That wasn't ... wasn't why I was here, that wasn't the point...."
OF COURSE IT WAS THE POINT!
Edward's eyes flew open, he found himself unable to move, the Other's hand around his neck, pinning him to the wall.
It has ALWAYS been the point, why won't you admit that? That rush you get when you leave that clue, stringing them along to the next point, taking them down the path YOU want them to take, controlling the way they think, forcing them to think better, faster, but never better than you, oh never, EVER better than you ... You need that, We need that, and you are LYING to yourself if you think you can stop. You can't, you'll never be able to stop. There will always be one more riddle, one more puzzle, one more way that you can prove that you alone ... are the smartest man alive. And you'll never get over that rush that comes from always being one step ahead of everyone else, will you...?
He started awake, finding himself laying on his back in the middle of the windowless room. ... Another windowless room ... Shivering, he sat up and moved to sit in the corner. It had been a hallucination, nothing more. Eyes closing, he forced his breathing to regulate. He was alone ... he was alone and ... He wasn't that man anymore.
Soft laughter filled his head, echoing, somehow. ...Liar ...