questionauthority | Riddle 030: Half-Life (50% Droning)

Entry tags:

Riddle 030: Half-Life (50% Droning)

[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?]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[This prompts a short, sharp laugh.] For once, I don't know what to say.

There are two halves of me, Edward. Two people, two different names. And they're both equally convinced they're insane. [He meets Edward's gaze, holding it with almost feverish intensity.] But one half thinks you'll pull me back from the edge, while the other thinks you'd be more than happy to shove me off. I almost don't care which.

I...used to have Crawford for this. [Schuldig has come decidedly to the fore, at least for the moment. And, in that moment, his hand moves to Edward's desk drawer - to where the gun had been last time. It's not there now, to his disappointment, but - yes, he has his own. Keane wouldn't own a gun but Schuldig always carries one. He reaches into his coat and pulls it out, setting it on the desk an equal distance between them - an open, wordless invitation.]

[Edward's eyes flicker down to the gun, a feeling of dread creeping down his spine. It doesn't take a genius or even the World's Greatest Detective to understand what Schuldig is asking of him. After taking a measured breath, he fixes Schuldig with a stern look.]

So that's why you've called me here, then? [To either pull Schuldig back from the edge or to shove him off... After a beat.] I'm not going to kill you.

[Schuldig's gaze snaps up to Edward's face, eyes narrowing as he misinterprets the reasons for the man's hesitation. His telepathy would normally prevent him from such missteps, but with both his and Edward's minds in such complete turmoil, it's hard for him to get any accurate reading.] Don't tell me you've forgotten who I am, Riddler. [His voice is harsher than usual; he clearly assumes Edward is holding back due to the mundane half of his memories, for Keane's sake, and is trying to push through those to Edward's real self and the hate he knows is there. He may...also be reminding himself, by speaking his thoughts aloud.] I am Schuldig. A telepath of Schwarz. A monster even by a criminal's standards, remember? A man who's threatened you, and Ema, and more people than you've ever met. Someone you've already killed. Why would you hesitate now?

[And then a dark thought occurs, which says a lot about Schuldig's mind and how it works, to say nothing of what he expects from the world.] ...unless you want to see me suffer.

I haven't forgotten. [Edward doesn't flinch at the other man's tone. He crosses his arms, simply glowering back at him in return.]

I see what it is you're doing, you know. What you're trying to get from me. And here I thought you didn't want my pity, Mastermind. [If Schuldig's going to refer to Edward by his criminal monniker, the Riddler might as well return the favor. All the same, Edward's tone is icy and just as dark as the telepath's.]

[This gets a short, sharp laugh out of Schuldig.] I'm not asking you to do me any favors. Or at least I don't expect you to shoot me out of pity, or mercy. [He gives Edward a brittle smile from beneath his bangs.] I'm doing you a favor. I thought you'd enjoy this - seeing me agonized and broken, and then getting to put a bullet in my brain at the pinnacle of my suffering. And what better way to remind yourself of who you are, and what's important to you, than shooting your enemy? And what better way to remind me of who I am than to encourage your sadism? To remind you of all the darkest parts of you that aren't so different from me?

That you shooting me is doing me a service...it's incidental, at best.

[Tempting offer, isn't it? Eddie reaches for the gun on the table... eyes it for a moment... and places it back down on the table.]

Forget it.

[Any amusement on Schuldig's part, dark or otherwise, vanishes when Edward sets the gun down. He hadn't actually planned on asking for this when he invited Edward here - it was a sudden decision, inspired mainly by his desire to escape the chaos in his own head even if he needed to put a bullet into it to do so. It's not an unfamiliar feeling in the least, but never has it been quite so bad as it is right now. But even if the desire to die came as a sudden whim, it's a desperate need...and Edward is denying it. And it's too difficult to sort through the chaos of both their minds to figure out why.

So he'll just ask. His voice is sharp, angry, almost betrayed - not because he expected Edward's help in any sense so much as he expected Edward to follow the logic he's currently defying. Edward is acting contrary to everything Schuldig thought he understood about the man, and at the worst possible moment for Schuldig to find himself wrong.] You can't tell me you don't want me dead.

[His gaze drops to the gun. He'd promised himself - and, in an indirect sense, Crawford - that he'd hold out until Schwarz had seen its plans come to fruition, which is partly why he asked Edward to do the honors rather than shooting himself. But with the gun left there, and his mental agony mounting, his resolve is breaking down.]

I might have said as much when first we met. Though if you'll recall the last time you allowed me to kill you, it wasn't quite as... satisfying a turnout as I would have hoped.

[That's putting it lightly, really. And given what he knows about Schuldig now---despite his constant antagonism, despite the fact that he tortures and mentally exhausts the woman he cares for, despite all of it---he can't kill his closest friend in the NO. Damn it. He isn't Keane. He's no friend to Edward Nigma. ...is he?

He's drawn out of his thoughts---thank God---when he notices the attention Schuldig is giving to the gun right now. You don't have to be a mindreader to know what he's thinking.]

Is that really how it's going to go? The moment the Mastermind simply decided he couldn't bear this place any longer? You're letting them win. You're better than this. Aren't you? [Is he... seriously encouraging one of his archenemies to keep fighting? ...hell, stranger things have happened in this town.]

Edited 2011-08-07 05:58 (UTC)

[Schuldig's eyes dart up from the gun in order to give Edward a poisonous look. Though, to be fair, even if he resents what Edward is implying - the tactic is successful. However brief it might be, Schuldig is distracted from the gun and all thoughts of using it.] You can't begin to fathom how strong I am. I've practically dropped you to your knees with a few seconds of what I've endured my entire life.

[He closes his eyes, fighting down another wave of false memories spurred by Edward's own resurgence. No, they're not friends...Schuldig's never had friends, unless one counts Schwarz, and they're gone. But Keane - no, Keane is dead. He doesn't have any friends either.] ...but everyone has their limit.

[His eyes open again as his fevered mind strikes another thought. It's inevitable; his thoughts are ricocheting off each other, in complete chaos. Eventually they're bound to hit on an idea.] Worried about me, Nigma? Or are you just scared that if the enemy who's beaten you breaks...

Don't flatter yourself. [That's what he says, but is he scared? Of course he is. Not that he'll ever admit it aloud, though Schuldig's more than likely to have felt it by now. He swallows.] Quite the contrary. Mayfield's doing all it can to try and convince the two of us that the lives we know are the truth should be abandoned. They want us to take a long, long look at the hardships we've been forced to face.

But... [There's a glint in his eyes.] What doesn't kill you simply makes you stronger. I would think you of all people should know that. Correct? [They've endured so much. Torturous childhoods. Loss. Fear. Not to mention everything this damn town has had to throw at them.]

I lack your "gift," so you'll forgive me if I'm wrong, but the question on both our minds right now? "What if?" What if things could be different? Mayfield thinks it has the answer. For both of us. But this? These... these memories? They aren't the answer. [And Edward'll gesture to the gun once again.] Nor is that.

I'm not about to give in. I'll never give in to this town. [He's like a goddamn cockroach.] Will you? What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, Schuldig. Are you going to overcome this obstacle they've thrown at us? Or are you going to submit? Are you going to admit that they're stronger than you? That I'm stronger than you?

[Schuldig's lips quirk at that, a shadow of one of his old smirks. There's too much turmoil between his temples for any real smugness, but it's something.] You'd only be stronger than me, Edward, if we were competing on anything remotely like an even playing field. I've got a hell of a handicap, compared to you.

Also, if you don't stop spouting that damn cliche I'll shoot one of us just to get away from it. [And he does reach out a hand for the gun, almost sluggishly...but it's only to tuck it away under his coat again. It seems that the danger, for now, has passed.]

You reminded me of something, though...

[~~Exactly as planned.~~]

Oh? [Edward leans back in his seat.] What is it?

This place has teased me with the chance for things to have been different before. And for real - not just in my head. If I didn't take the opportunity then, accepting a pale substitute now would be idiotic. Not to mention pointless.

[With the resolve from that thought having firmly established which memories he chooses to keep hold of, the struggle in his head becomes...easier. Not easy by a long shot, and no more pleasant than before, but at least he's questioning less as he fights against the intrusion.]

[A curt nod and a wry smirk in return.]

Exactly. Perhaps you aren't as foolish as I thought.

[Which is about as close to a compliment as you're going to get from Edward right now.]

[This sparks a low laugh.] And you're a lot more foolish than I thought, not taking the one clear advantage you've had over me. Though you've succeeded in leaving me with no idea as to what the hell you're thinking...

[This only elicits an even wider grin.] What was that? Say it a little louder for me?

Sorry - 'your thought process is completely incomprehensible to normal, rational human beings'.

[A deriding scoff as Edward rises to his feet.]

You know something? You're

[...uh-oh.]

Edited 2011-08-07 08:43 (UTC)

[Unfortunately, it seems like Schuldig's and Edward's lapsing into something vaguely in the neighborhood of civil with each other was enough to bring the drone feelings of friendship between Edward and Keane to the fore.

Schuldig would be alarmed (or at least pissed off) at the shift in Edward's voice - and the use of his name...except that it's Keane who answers, wearing a smile more genuine than Schuldig's face has seen in years.]

[Then Keane gets to his feet as well, moving around the desk to stand face to face with his old friend.]

[He'll extend his hand outwards for a shake at first. Then, laughing and shrugging his shoulders in a "who are we kidding?" sort of manner, he pulls Keane into a hug, clapping his hand fondly against his back.]

[For a moment, Keane simply laughs and returns the hug in comradely fashion...but it doesn't last.

Schuldig rips control of his mind back with almost brutal force. Something about the hug snapped him fully awake within his own mind again - he's fairly certain it was the mind-numbing absurdity of it, an utter affront to his true self. And, as quick as thought, he drills a single word into Edward's head, with the force of a telepathic air siren.]

RIDDLER.

[The Riddler's eyes snap wide open. And as soon as he realizes what he's doing, he releases Schuldig and backs away from him as though he were contagious. There's... a good moment of quiet as he stares at the telepath, completely aghast.]

Let's... never speak about this. Ever.

[Schuldig's expression is indescribable - a blend of mortification, murderous rage, and distinct alarm at having lost control of his mind. Granted, losing control of one's mind would be alarming for anyone, but doubly so for a telepath whose ability to maintain his sense of self is always strained. He straightens his jacket without thinking, as much to have something to do while he sorts out his thoughts as anything else.]

You read my mind. [He smiles mirthlessly.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Riddle 030: Half-Life (50% Droning)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject