questionauthority | Entries tagged with identity crisis

[Hey Mayfield. Guess who's been a busy little drone this evening? Well, now that he's gone and killed his first victim, the Riddler's going to be headed on home. But first?

A. ACTION - The Gas Station / Diner - Evening

The Riddler's at the gas station, whistling to himself and filling up the Riddler-Mobile. Which you've probably noticed is a little bit dented. And is missing a windshield. And appears to have something just barely jutting out of the trunk. It's small. Black. Almost looks like a piece of a certain someone's... cape. Not that any of this bothers the Riddler in the slightest.

B. ACTION - 726 Anderson Lane - Soon After

Now that his car's all filled up and everything's all hunky-dory, Edward Nigma's gonna head on home, parking his car in the garage. He doesn't bother taking the corpse out of the trunk, simply leaving it locked inside. Never mind the fact that his ordinarily stainless green suit is still covered in blood. His familiar cane, bent and bloodied, is in his hand.

When he enters the house, there's a big, cheery grin on his face.]

Daddy's home! [Laughing jovially, he'll mosey on over to the kitchen.] How's my happy, healthy family this evening?

[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?]

[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 comes downstairs on Christmas Morning, wading through the sea of cats that had seemingly filled up the house. Coming across a bunch of presents beneath the tree in green wrapping paper, he smirks. He takes a look at the note, tossing it backwards and tearing into his presents like a little kid. He pulls out his cane. A new revolver. A Rubiks' Cube. And... Batman's utility belt? And a working ~~bat~~ credit-card with the name "Bruce Wayne" on it. He chuckles, sliding it into his pocket and pulling the belt on. But as soon as he snaps the belt around his waist, he feels... strange. Different. He remembers...

Bang! His father keeling over in the alleyway. His mother screams.

BANG! His mother tumbling down, pearls flying everywhere. Rain falling down. Masking Edward's tears on that fateful night.

He looks at the gun beneath the tree once again and his eyes widen in fear. This is the kind of weapon that took his parents away from him... With a sudden, vehement motion, he hurtles it out the window into the snow. He then stands straight. Resolute. A stern look on his face. Eddie knows what must be done. He strides back upstairs. Puts on his best green suit. Black sunglasses he's picked up in town. His trademark bowler hat. He marches back downstairs and out the door, examining his new Riddler-Mobile in the driveway. It's elaborate. Tricked out. It'll get the job done. He climbs in, fastens his seatbelt, and tears off down Anderson Lane.

He takes note that there is a phone installed within the car's console, and he picks it up, speaking with a much gruffer, throatier voice than usual.]

Enjoying your Christmas, Mayfield? Some of us aren't. Some of us have had innocent people taken away. Forever. By whom, you might ask? Nothing more than a common criminal. A miserable, unrelenting, unforgiving coward with a gun, who thinks he has something to prove. Who thinks he can strike fear into the hearts of innocents. Well. Now it's my turn. To all you criminal scum of Mayfield. Your days are numbered. And to those hardworking innocents, trapped and frightened? Your new guardian has arrived.

[He is vengeance. He is the night. He is Edward Nigma, the Goddamn Riddler. He'll be patrolling around the town in his new Riddler-Mobile, and will be looking, just looking for people to punish. You can also speak to him via the carphone.]

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Riddles are your compulsion. Your addiction.

And a riddle that everyone knows the answer to is... "worthless."

Entries tagged with identity crisis

Riddle 032: Milked For All He's Worth

Riddle 030: Half-Life (50% Droning)

Riddle 027: All About the Game (And How You Play It)

Riddle 014: Christmas Angst [Voice/Action]

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