Riddle 030: Half-Life (50% Droning)

[questionauthority]

[A - ACTION: The Kitchen of 726 Anderson Lane.

Eddie's in the middle of preparing a nice, hearty breakfast for his family. Question: How best to spend this Fourth of July? Take his beautiful wife and kids out for a picnic in John Doe Park? Maybe see if Jonathan and his family want to come along? Honestly? It's days like this that it feels pretty damn good to be Edward Nashton.

Wait. That... isn't right. It's Nigma. Edward Nigma. He'd taken that name to get as far away from that miserable childhood as possible. ...hadn't he? No, all Eddie can think about now is a childhood here in Mayfield. His old man teaching him how to ride a bike. Playing catch with him in the backyard while Mrs. Nashton made her world-famous lemonade. The day he'd come racing home to tell his father he'd won a contest at school. And his father had been proud of him...

No. Stop it, Edward. You'd cheated that day, remember? Your father was never proud of you. That's why you strove to prove yourself better than everyone else, because you are better than everyone else. You're a genius. Cleverer than Crane. More intelligent than Lex Luthor. You've got bigger brains than Batman.

...and it's here that Edward Nashton---Nigma, dammit---comes to a haunting conclusion. There never was a Batman here in Mayfield, was there? There was never a reason for one. There was never a reason for the Riddler, either. All of a sudden, Eddie's feeling much less enthused about today.]

[B - PHONE: Shortly after breakfast.]

"Bury deep,
Pile on stones,
Yet I will
Dig up the bones."

Memories. Something... something isn't right. I'm starting to remember things that didn't happen. Things that should never have happened.

[Or should they have? What's wrong with the life Edward's leading here in Mayfield? For once in his pathetic life, he has the chance to be happy. Yet again, the Riddler is beginning to question himself.]

None of this is real. ...is it?

[C - ACTION: That afternoon, various places around town.

The Riddler needs to clear his head. Perhaps some of that fresh Mayfield air will do him some good. Those who bump into him may hear him reciting a little riddle to himself. Something to keep him anchored in all of this confusion.]

"Up a hill,
Down a hill,
Over them I may roam,
But after all my walking,
There's no place like my own."

[This neighborhood, these streets, this perfect little slice of American suburbia. This place is a far cry from Gotham. This place isn't truly home.

...right?]

Comments

Phone

[brotherseyes.livejournal.com]

NO. It's not real! None of it is!

[He's wavering, though. Nina doesn't want to see anyone lost to Mayfield's delusions. She has to think. Has to communicate with him on his level, if he's going to believe her.

Edward communicates in riddles, right?]

Edward. What's the biggest riddle of all? The most important--the biggest--the most unpredictable riddle?

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

[It sounds like Anna seems to be having some difficulties as well. Before he can question her further, though, she asks him a question.]

The biggest riddle of all...? The answer is life itself, clearly. Simple.

[And yet not simple at the same time.]

Phone, 100% droning (troll)

[glowing-science.livejournal.com]

...of course it's real.

Why wouldn't it be? We grew up here. Are... are you feeling okay?

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

[No. No, not Ema, too. And from the sound of it, she's in an even worse state than he is.]

...I could ask you the same thing.

[He'll---he'll test her. She's got to remember.]

Look. I need you to tell me about something. And I want you to think carefully before you answer. Can you do that for me?

B; 50%, derp.

[riastrad-ridire.livejournal.com]

I'm...remembering things too. Or I'm forgetting them. At this rate I don't know which is exactly the case.

It's like there's two answers to every question. Where I grew up, who I lived with, who my friends are...I don't know which answers are the right ones.

Something's wrong. Something I don't even understand yet.

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

There can only be one answer to this question. Is it real? Or isn't it? There can't possibly be more than one answer. It has to be another trick.

Phone - also at 50

[worstvikingever]

Actually I've been wondering that too, Mr. Nash... no. Is that right? It's not right. It's... It's not right.

What's going on?

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

I wish I knew. You... you were about to call me something, weren't you?

Phone

[poisonivyforyou.livejournal.com]

[That's... Ed's voice. Her friend. They went to high school together they- she always said she hated him because he was one of the few able to outsmart her in most classes. Not in Botany, of course, but who could outsmart Pamela Isley in that field?

She cared about him a great deal.]

...Eddie? Is something wrong?

[Yet she felt... uneasy about this. Like there was something else, something... more she was forgetting.]

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

[Pam. If there's one rogue he knows with a level head, it's got to be her.]

Pam, you remember Gotham, don't you? You remember life outside of this town.

[Tell him he isn't crazy.]

C - 100% Droning

[thinkwportals.livejournal.com]

Afternoon, Eddie!



Thinking in riddles again, are we? It's home, right?

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

[I's... the first time Edward's ever heard Chell speak.

No, it isn't. They've been friends since high school, you could never get her to shut up about anything, Ed---]

Wh-what did you just say...?

[C-Action] [@75%Droning] Screw you LJ.

[notasidedick]

Nashton! [He's running up towards the other. He usually calls everyone by their first name, but this is different. Edward was his upperclassman. Someone he looked up to and respected wholeheartedly. But that isn't right is it...]

Nashton you aren't looking too good. [This conversation doesn't feel right.]

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

[Eddie whips around, caught off-guard. Someone else knows his name. And more importantly, Edward knows this voice. This is the man who dared to think he could replace Bruce. But instead of letting loose some snarky comment about the former Boy Wonder, he instead finds himself replying:]

I've felt better, Grayson.

A and 75%

[tapshoetomove.livejournal.com]

[Luke wakes up and makes his way towards the kitchen for his usual routine of breakfast and the early morning crossword puzzle (strangely enough, solving crossword puzzles these days was a breeze for him, almost like he's solved them before or something).

But ever since he woke up there's something on his mind, strange dreams of London, a man in a top hat, people he thinks he should know but doesn't. Heck, he's never even been to London before, so he can't figure out the reason behind the dreams and why it feels so vivid to him.

He slides into the nearest chair, yawning and looking drowsy.]

Morning, papa.

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

[Papa?! The tiny little voice instantly snags Edward's attention. Who else should it be but Luke? Already preparing himself for the early morning crossword, a prodigy and a genius-in-the-making, just like his old man.]

Morning, son. [Immediately, his mouth snaps shut. The word had slipped out before he could really stop himself. Luke isn't really his son. He can't be. Yet he still remembers teaching the boy how to play chess. The day he'd passed down the book of riddles that he'd received when he was Luke's age. These memories feel so vivid. What the hell is going on here?]

Phone & 50%

[uranophobe.livejournal.com]

So, this is one of those strange "events" everyone kept mentioning?

[He seems remarkably calm, considering the situation. But, really, he's already got the "stark raving mad" thing already.]

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

[Glad to see you're adjusting so well, Jonny-boy.]

It looks that way. [He thinks?] Can you... Do you remember anything unusual, Jonathan?

C - 75%

[demonoaths.livejournal.com]

[Mao's dealing with the same problem as well. He knows he's been here all his life, right? So why does he see things that aren't there?

As if by accident, he stumbles again and staggers to his feet, ignoring the aching wounds and focusing on the one that killed his dad and puts his hands to his head.]

What...?

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

[Edward's brought out of his mantra when he notices the young man's suffering. Marching over to him, a desperate look in his eyes.]

You're remembering things as well, aren't you?

Phone - %75

[greatestmanll40.livejournal.com]

Ah, dear Edward.

You've obviously been reading too many of those foolish comic books.

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

Comic... books...? Don't patronize me, Luthor.

A. 75%

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

[Perhaps somewhat alarmingly, Edward is met by a Susan wearing a bright pink dress with floral patterns.]

Oh, good morning, dear! And a happy Fourth of July to you! I've made you a special breakfast.

[Hopefully, Edward likes scrambled eggs dyed red and blue.]

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

[All Edward can do is alternate between staring at the multicolored eggs and staring at her. She's... wearing pink. It looks almost unnatural. Yet the color suits her very well. She looks like a dream, just as radiant as the day he married her---

Stop it. Eddie clutches his temple abruptly in an attempt to steady himself. This isn't real. It can't be real.]

Phone - 50%

[godisachild.livejournal.com]

Yeah, you're friggin' right there's something not right.

Something seems off today like we aren't supposed to be here.

But we aren't supposed to be here we're not from here? Right?

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

Right. [He thinks.] We were never... we weren't born here. We weren't raised here. As much as this town would want us to believe...

[As appealing as a perfect life really sounds to him right now.]

B - 25%

[gotmorbucks]

Of course it is. I'd have hated myself for being born here!

Even if I remember the hospital-- but I don't! [Ugh.] If you're so smart, tell me what's going on here!

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

It... it has to be another illusion. Yet these memories feel so real. I can't...

B, 50% droning

[have-your-lives.livejournal.com]

Edward. [There's a long pause between this and Keane's - no, Schuldig's, goddammit, he'd stopped using that name, how can half of him want to scream when he hears that name while the other half doesn't bat an eye? - next sentence. He's far more torn than Edward; they're each just as imperfectly droned, even if neither is actually aware of what's going on, but the difference is that one half of the German's mind is actively telepathic. He's got a hell of a lot more to question. He has conflicting memories not just in his own head - of fighting with Edward, of being his student, of being shot in the head by him, of gradually becoming friends with him despite their former rivalry over Ema - but in Edward's as well.

But both halves of his mind agree on at least one thing, and it's that Edward sounds like a good person to go to about this confusion right now. The half that believes Keane is Edward's friend could use the support, and the half that believes it's Edward's enemy could use another mind to pick. The more jarring - and similar - their mutual memories are, the more he'll be able to set reality straight in his own head.] ...I think we need to talk.

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

Schuldig.

[There's the usual sense of dread that comes with the idea of yet another discussion with the telepath. Yet there's a sense of warmth and fondness as well. What does Edward Nashton have to fear from one of his closest friends?]

Would you prefer we speak in person? [Surprisingly, Edward would. He'd prefer this over the phones, and he'd definitely prefer it over hearing Schuldig's voice inside his head again.]

C

[un-beau-coquin.livejournal.com]

[He keeps playing with his cigarette case, knowing he wants to smoke but there are foreign brands in there-- but maybe he liked those? He wasn't sure. Being in his house is just confusing him, so maybe if he walked outside it wouldn't be so bad.

He's too caught up in his own thoughts to notice someone walking nearby, but the man's words catch his attention.]

Poetry, monsieur? I suppose it fits, seeing as it's Independence Day and 'ome is the best place to be.

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

A riddle. To remind me of home.

[His real home. Mayf---Gotham. GOTHAM.]

C

[flameyedhunter.livejournal.com]

What are you talking about, mr Nigma?

[ Asks a girl who looks familiar, though her tone of voice is far sweeter as she approaches him from her porch. ]

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

[She remembers his real name.]

Shana. You were always good at answering my questions, weren't you?

phone; 25% sorry I am a snail aflsdj.

[godmodcomplex.livejournal.com]

It's an interesting little hitch to have... isn't it.

I am the snailiest of the snails.

[puzzlerprince.livejournal.com]

Then you're remembering things as well.