Edward Nigma | The Riddler (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
questionauthority) wrote2011-05-27 11:15 am
questionauthority) wrote2011-05-27 11:15 am
Riddle 027: All About the Game (And How You Play It)
[A - Action: 726 Anderson Lane - Morning
Edward Nigma isn't having such a hot morning. After searching his room in frustration for any trace of his familiar emerald suits or his trademark canes, he heads into his study, tearing into a letter he received in the mail this morning. His eyes narrow as he scans through the letter. He's being asked to kill. Judging from the almost formulaic structure of the letter, he assumes that the rest of the town has received identical letters, if not a good deal of the population. He isn't the only one being asked to play this little game.
There's no question that Edward's greatest desire is to be recognized and accepted for the true genius that he is. But can the town actually promise him that? There has to be a catch. There's always a catch. Flipping through the rest of the documents he's been given, he pauses when he comes across a small photograph. He's in it. Prominent in the foreground, really, sitting on a park bench. In the somewhat blurred background of the photograph, a young brunette in a labcoat plants a soft kiss on his cheek. Eddie shoots to his feet and stares down at the photo, his stomach churning incredibly uncomfortably. He's horrified, appalled, enraged that this town would dare to...
There's a beat as he attempts to maintain his cool. He flips the photo upside down so that he doesn't have to keep looking at it, reading through the rules and regulations of this little game. This town's promising him acceptance? Fine. He'll do it. He'll play their little game.]
[B - Action: Mayfield High School.
Dressed in an uncharacteristic black, wearing a matching trilby atop his head, Eddie sits behind the desk of his Ethics classroom.]
I trust a good deal of you received something interesting in the mail this morning? Well, then. By a show of hands, how many of you intend to take part in this little game that the town's set up for us?
[This question's not just for the sake of class discussion, it's for the sake of evaluating who could be a potential threat. Any one of them could be targeting him, after all.]
[C - Action: After School, On the Way Back to 726 Anderson.
The Riddler ducks into a phonebooth, taking another good look at the name he's been assigned.
"el Reino de España (Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo)"
"The Kingdom of Spain?!" ...one of those countries, then. The question is, how the hell is he supposed to find this target? It's not as though he can simply find him on a map. Not for this. Edward puts the paper away, heading out of the phonebooth and making his way back home. The gun in his breast pocket hardly weighs him down. He'll find his target. And he'll make it to the next round. And he'll win the respect and admiration of this whole damn town.
If there's one thing that Edward Nigma knows, it's how to play a game. And how to play it well.]
((OOC: Tags may come a bit slow today and tomorrow. Still adjusting to life on the West Coast. Thanks for understanding!))
Edward Nigma isn't having such a hot morning. After searching his room in frustration for any trace of his familiar emerald suits or his trademark canes, he heads into his study, tearing into a letter he received in the mail this morning. His eyes narrow as he scans through the letter. He's being asked to kill. Judging from the almost formulaic structure of the letter, he assumes that the rest of the town has received identical letters, if not a good deal of the population. He isn't the only one being asked to play this little game.
There's no question that Edward's greatest desire is to be recognized and accepted for the true genius that he is. But can the town actually promise him that? There has to be a catch. There's always a catch. Flipping through the rest of the documents he's been given, he pauses when he comes across a small photograph. He's in it. Prominent in the foreground, really, sitting on a park bench. In the somewhat blurred background of the photograph, a young brunette in a labcoat plants a soft kiss on his cheek. Eddie shoots to his feet and stares down at the photo, his stomach churning incredibly uncomfortably. He's horrified, appalled, enraged that this town would dare to...
There's a beat as he attempts to maintain his cool. He flips the photo upside down so that he doesn't have to keep looking at it, reading through the rules and regulations of this little game. This town's promising him acceptance? Fine. He'll do it. He'll play their little game.]
[B - Action: Mayfield High School.
Dressed in an uncharacteristic black, wearing a matching trilby atop his head, Eddie sits behind the desk of his Ethics classroom.]
I trust a good deal of you received something interesting in the mail this morning? Well, then. By a show of hands, how many of you intend to take part in this little game that the town's set up for us?
[This question's not just for the sake of class discussion, it's for the sake of evaluating who could be a potential threat. Any one of them could be targeting him, after all.]
[C - Action: After School, On the Way Back to 726 Anderson.
The Riddler ducks into a phonebooth, taking another good look at the name he's been assigned.
"The Kingdom of Spain?!" ...one of those countries, then. The question is, how the hell is he supposed to find this target? It's not as though he can simply find him on a map. Not for this. Edward puts the paper away, heading out of the phonebooth and making his way back home. The gun in his breast pocket hardly weighs him down. He'll find his target. And he'll make it to the next round. And he'll win the respect and admiration of this whole damn town.
If there's one thing that Edward Nigma knows, it's how to play a game. And how to play it well.]
((OOC: Tags may come a bit slow today and tomorrow. Still adjusting to life on the West Coast. Thanks for understanding!))
no subject
I wouldn't be so quick to judge, if I were you. It's to be expected, really. Many of us here have too much at stake to risk punishment.
no subject
[She doesn't mention that she had, at first, very briefly considered going along with it, when she got her letter. That impulse, though, was quickly squashed, crushed by guilt and self-horror and the still fresh memory of the attempt on her own life.]
no subject
And I think you're speaking out of line. Sit down. Now.
no subject
Generally teachers aren't advocating what she perceives as murder, though.]
Or what?
no subject
no subject
Then she looks back up at him, eyes still shining.
And she whirls, braid swinging, charging for the door. It's stupid and petty and impulsive, and she's not angry at him--well okay she is angry at him, and everyone who raised their hands--but more than that she's angry at Mayfield, at whoever would devise a game like this.]
Then--then I'm dismissed! I'll show myself to the office. I am not going to stay here and stand for this. I hope everyone thinks long and hard about what they'd be losing if they do.
[Her hand closes around the handle, and she's about to go. She takes one deep breath before she cranks down on it, harder than she needs to.]
no subject
He turns to face the rest of the classroom, looking to be in perhaps the most infuriated state that they've ever seen him.]
Does anyone else wish to join her?
[He waits.]
no subject