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Post by Deleted on Feb 25, 2012 19:06:20 GMT -5
[Flashback: About a year ago-Before the FBI and Nina]
Condensation of atmospheric water vapor into drops of water heavy enough to fall, liquid precipitation, he thought angrily as he leaned against the dirty wet bricks of an alley wall, hidden in the shadows. The rain was drowning his hair since his bowler cap had been inconveniently lost in the shamble with Batman. He gain some pleasure in the thought that Batman was still currently struggling with the chinese body trap he had set up, but overall, he was angry. How did Batman solve the riddles? He must have cheated! It was the only explanation! To think, that fat officer would get to live another day disgusted him.
Edward remembered the look on the Bullocks face as he hung chained to a chair from the ceiling above sharp turbines that would crush through bone easily. There was a timer that read a minute and after each riddle would start back at a minute. If he got a riddle correct he was pulled up. If he got one wrong...well he didn't have to worry about working his small brain anymore. Edward, of course, watched this take place from his hideout with multiple screens along his wall. Bullock was given the riddle on the giant screen in his room. The first was, What color is this? It was text that spelled Red, but was the color yellow. He answered red.
The buffoon! How can he even call himself a police officer! It was absolutely absurd. The only reason Edward had decided to test the man was because the idiot monkey had called Edward an idiot. Edward an idiot! Edward was anything but an idiot! He was a genius with a genius IQ. If the man thought he was smarter, well Edward was glad to offer the challenge....if the Batman wouldn't have shown up!
Yes, Edward was slightly exaggerating since he had dealt with the Batman before. He was in a bad mood because the rain had caused an unexpected accidental event to occur that would only happen if one was rushed and already had an issues with stairs. As he escaped out the fire escape. Edward's foot slipped on the wet stairs near the bottom flight, and before he could catch himself he had fallen...on cement street.
His expensive green suit was dirty, his hat was gone, and he had broken arm.
It was bad enough that he was already forced to a cane, but with the very arm, which held up his weight off his bad leg, now broken....well Edward was not happy.
He held his cane in his other hand as he stayed pressed against the wall, taking a break from putting so much weight on his bad leg. He had already managed to wrap his tie around his broken arm to keep it up. It would have been better to use his jacket, but Edward did not want to deal with the pain that would come with taking off his jacket. His leg was already starting to kick up, since his adrenaline lowering. It was like the entire side of his left body was falling apart.
He sucked on his tootsie pop that was the only thing holding his mind together at the moment. He checked both sides of the alley. He was getting close. Thank goodness.
It wasn't that Edward wanted to see Jonathan. He had nothing for or against the man. He just happened to be the only rogue close enough to his own hideout that wasn't the Joker. How did he know where Jonathan lived? Well Edward made it his business to determine where every rogue lived. Jonathan was actually quite easy. When homeless people start muttering to themselves about fear and Scarecrow, it is more then likely that Jonathan is close by. He confirmed it with a smuggler who had gotten the good Professor some of his recent chemicals.
He took a deep breath then started limping down the alley way and onto the street. A street lamp was flickering on and off and a few thugs were talking near the stumps of their buildings. He felt the glances on his experience when the light managed to catch his a speck of his dirty bright green. He probably looked vulnerable, and while he was much weaker then usually, it did not mean he still didn't have his mind. If a thug did decide to show off by beating a rogue, they would quickly regret their decision.
Luckily, the amount mud on his suit covered his identity. They probably just took him as another homeless man and went back to their jokes and gossip in the rain. Why were they out in the rain? He puzzled to himself. Some mob must have something important in that building, but he tucked that information away for later use. He stopped two block down in front of a run down building that at night and in the rain gave off a creepy aura.
Edward rolled his eyes before he started taking the stairs to the front door one by one. Jon was on the second floor. Deep breaths. How many licks was he on? Distractions.
He went through the front door without a hassle and no one at the front desk because honestly, no one probably actually lived here beside Jon. He took to the stairs. He only hoped they would not give way. He had no interest in another fall to the ground. He finally made it to the second floor and walked to a door. He knocked.
He didn't receive an answer at first, so he knocked again. When the door finally did open, he gave a large grin, slightly forced. "Hello Jonathan, I was in neighborhood and was wondering if you happen to have a spot at your dinner table," he said politely and loudly for a man in his position. He rolled his lollipop into his other check and gave a smirk as if saying, 'Yeah, I know. I look like shit' but Edward had far too much class and large vocabulary to ever admit something like that.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Feb 25, 2012 22:30:19 GMT -5
The apartment was dry much to his surprise. The apartment that he had been residing in wasn't the best place he had ever lived in. The doctor was lost in his thoughts as he sat in his lab chair in the main room of the apartment. The rain hit the window on the far wall of where he was sitting and reminded him of long nights at Arkham Asylum. Not as a patient but as a doctor. His life was different then, a high paying job, a nice house on the North side, and all the research subjects he could get his hands on. All of it was gone.
It didn't stop him from continuing with his research though. The life of a Professional Criminal only made it easier for him to do everything he had done before. Now he was limitless, he didn't have to make reports to a board and follow a certain set of moral rules. The only difference was now he had to hide from the authorities. Not that it was difficult.
Darkness crept into his thoughts as he began to think of ways to enact revenge upon those that had taken his life from him. As they became darker and darker the life in his eyes seemed to leave. Nothing was left but a cold stare of a human mind that all moral reasoning had long since been abandoned.
His thought process was broken when his mind seemed to leap back into his body. The knock at the door had interrupted. Dr. Crane was suspicious as to whether it may have been some kind of mistake, perhaps a drunk at the wrong door. Slowly he lifted from his seat and moved towards the door now hearing the second knock. Carefully he placed his hand on the lock latch to the wooden door and opened it enough to where he could see whoever was on the other side.
His eyes traveled up and down the unfortunate man in front of him. He looked desperate.“Edward Nigma...” was all he said as he tossed around the thought of actually letting him inside. Dr. Crane was not a social man, whether they shared his current line of work or not. After a moment of thought he closed the door and unhooked the latch opening it for Nigma. The doctor stood out of the way so he could come inside his home.
It was more of a lab than a home. Everywhere you looked there was various things a decent sized lab would contain. Beakers, test tubes, vials, needles and many other hazardous materials made up the room. Now that he could get a good look at Nigma he was sure that he must have been desperate. The man was soaking wet, dirty from head to toe, and looked injured. His eyes fell to his arm being held up by a sling he had formed from his tie. “I assume that you want me to take a look at that...” He stated and pointed to Nigma's arm. It was the only apparent reason that he could find as to why Nigma would come to him...Unless he was being chased.
The thought of Nigma running in fear pleased Dr. Crane to no end. For now he would refrain from asking what happened, but he would get it out of him. The thought of dealing with him in his home was taxing however. The only thing more impossible than his riddles was his insufferable ego. The biggest question that was on his mind was how exactly The Riddler knew where he lived. There was no doubt that Nigma was intelligent but it got Dr. Crane to think about just how much of a hideout was his hideout.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 26, 2012 0:44:44 GMT -5
"The one and only," he confirmed with a smirk as Jonathan opened the door for him. Edward had spoken with the man on a couple occasions, and with his excellent deductive skills, he had determined early that the man was cold and indifferent to any living thing. For that reason, the lack of expression in the man face and the straight almost monotone way he spoke was not a surprise to Edward. He did not take it as a personal offense as he would with another person where it would be a sign of disrespect. Jon just wasn't a pleasant man, but Edward didn't care. After all, he hadn't come to enthralled with a wonderful tale of conversation. If he wanted entertainment he could have read a book. No, he was here to get a hold of himself and strategize. An intelligent man in war understands when one must retreat from battle to organize oneself to win the war.
He stepped inside, more like limped, and took in his fellow rogue's surroundings. His eyes glanced over the vials and chemicals that layered the tables. Jonathan certainly had been busy, he noted as he took in the papers of research. His bottom lip pouted out in thought as he considered this. He had never visited Jonathan in his home, and his choice not to do so was for the fact of how dangerous it would be. The Joker can be held at bay by charismatic words and making the man feel in control, something to offer helps. Selina Kyle is wooed by a few flirtatious comments. Dent you have fifty fifty chance and playing the odds isn't difficult if you keep offering different options.
Jonathan on the other hand...he was an intelligent man and was not easily charmed through a few manipulated words. He also usually only wanted one thing from you, and living your greatest fears was not on Edward's to do list today. Seeing the vials and the amount of fear toxin in this apartment made Edward realize that he hadn't put himself in the best position to handle Jonathan. His mind started to toy with a few ideas of how to best handle this riddle he was in if Jonathan were to get any experimental ideas into mind tonight. Hopefully, this would be just a pleasant interaction between acquaintances in the criminal profession, but with Edward's paranoia and trust issues, he always was prepared for the worst.
Jonathan's comment pulled Edward from his thoughts, and his eyes widen ever so slightly as he turned from the lab work to the man. "Ah this," he comments as he moves his arm a fraction, “Based on the amount of pain, I believe I fractured my humerus.” Admittedly, though he would never state this aloud, there was a benefit to his accident that had crippled his leg. The constant pain he felt regarding his leg had increased his pain tolerance above most, and he had become quite good at analyzing his own levels of pain. A normal person would certainly be in a coma, but that was why Edward was far better then any normal person. “If you have a splint perhaps,” he suggested.
Actually, what Edward really wanted was a seat. He had been walking on his leg far too long, and the over all pain was beginning to cloud his thoughts. He glanced around the room finding the nearest chair that was the farthest away from chemical substance. “You certainly have made this place….cozy,” he said with a sarcastic smirk as he started to limp over to the chair. “I hope you don’t mind my invasion, Jonathan. I was in a bit of a riddle and you seemed like the best solution,” he commented as he sat down on a flimsy chair. Sitting helped the pain ever so slightly, but his mind still was feeling clouded with pain. He might have a high pain tolerance, but walking on his bad leg with a broken arm was close to bringing him over the edge. It was amazing he was forming coherent sentences at this point. Work the mind, and it will distract you from pain.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Feb 26, 2012 2:34:20 GMT -5
The question of how exactly Nigma found him left his mind as it turned to how to 'fix' his broken acquaintance. The doctor did indeed have a hospital splint in his home. On the occasion, when acquiring unwilling patients, they would injure themselves. Getting the reaction of fear out of an injured person is a bit more difficult if the wound is not treated properly.
Dr. Crane watched Nigma limp over to a chair that he had in one of the further corners of the room. He noticed that it was at a distance from his work. 'Fear' was all that came to mind when observing this behavior. It was clear that whatever had happened had taken quite a toll on The Riddler. Seeing Nigma as he did now didn't change his perspective of the man. Inside the broken body was still an intellect that dared to be challenged.
“Stay there..” He stated in distrust towards Nigma. Many of his research notes and vials of toxin, among other experimental chemicals littered the tables. He wouldn't put it passed him to steal anything from his lab, after all a man in his position would want the upper hand in any way possible. With that being said Dr. Crane left the room and went into a door that he was aware Nigma could see into if only for a moment. He tried to enter it as quickly as possible because of this and shut the door behind him. His secrets, he wanted to keep that way.
Inside the bedroom wasn't a bed at all. In the middle of the room was a large metal table with several buckle straps attached to it. The doctor experimented on his less than willing prey in this room. Wanting to be quick about what he was doing he opened a small closet on the far side of the room and dug through for a moment to find a plastic splint. After retrieving it he moved to a table across the room and pulled out a drawer from it. Inside were several neatly kept bottles containing many different chemicals. It took a few moments for him to find what he wanted. When he did he pulled the bottle out and placed it on the table top now reaching into the back of the drawer for some capped syringes and cotton balls. After grabbing a few and uncapping the syringe he placed it into the bottle and pulled the needle up at about 4 cc's. Having finished he placed the bottle back where he got it from and shut the drawer. Before he left the table he grabbed a bottle marked 'Alcohol' on the front.
He placed the splint under his arm and carried the other objects in his hands as he left the room. Again he made an effort to close the door quickly behind him. Coming back into the room he rolled the lab chair closest to him over the where Nigma sat and placed the splint on the floor beside him and sat down, facing him. With one hand he uncapped the small bottle and turned it over dowsing the cotton. With that he lifted the syringe in front of the Riddler and an almost sinister smile began to form. With his reputation he wondered if he could get a reaction of fear out of him. After all he never saw him fill the syringe. “For the pain..” Dr. Crane explained to him.
It was clear what reaction he wanted from him. The pain must have been getting to him at this point, he wondered if he would accept an offer to numb the pain. Dr. Crane collected his excitement for the situation and controlled the smile he had let escape. His stare began to pick Nigma's mind apart piece by piece as he waited for a reaction.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 26, 2012 14:04:16 GMT -5
Edward watched as Jonathan went to his bedroom. His statement only proved that neither one of them trusted each other, but also showed a sign of intelligence to the Riddler. Jonathan shouldn't trust him. Even though, Edward had no plan or was in no position to start something with Crane, it didn't mean that he wouldn't protect himself if necessary. He smirked when Jonathan quickly opened and shut the bedroom door. It appeared that the man had something important in there that he wanted hidden. Interesting.
He swallowed as he tried to focus away from the pain. He was in a desperate position, and he needed to turn the tables, so he wouldn't be in the worse position if Jonathan tried something. It was difficult to think with the pain, but he could do it. He had almost reached the center of the tootsie pop, and he lost count somewhere between his travels. Once again the riddle stayed unsolved, but counted to himself. His OCD nature helped largely with dealing with pain. He shifted in the chair, as he put his cane on the floor. He felt his gun pressed in his waistband and hidden under his jacket. If all all went to hell, he could use it. His eyes darted along the room, and he began counting the amount of full substances he saw in the room. He should sat closer, so he could have taken some in case, but his mind wasn't as sharp as it should be.
He had his explosive question marks in his slack pocket. Hmm...he smirked, he could work with that. A plan started formulating in his mind, and amazingly enough, thinking of a plan managed to subdue the pain. He would only have to go through with it, if Crane was less then good host.
His mind was pulled from his thoughts as he heard the door shut again. He looked up and saw Jonathan walking over with a splint and a syringe. Jump right ahead, Edward thought as his lip tilted into a frown ever slightly. Jonathan pulled a lab chair next to him and placed the splint on the ground. Edward kept his eye on the syringe. It wasn't that Edward was scared, no he was just intelligent enough to know to be suspicious. Jonathan's smile certainly did not help his case. The man was addict, constantly looking for his next fix.
Did he really think it would be that easy to frighten Edward?
Edward smirked at the description of the drug use. "No need," he said calmly with a smile, "I haven't taken drugs for pain in six years. I never enjoyed medicine clouding my mind. People who need to transport themselves from reality merely don't have the mental capacity to handle it. I, on other hand," he paused and pulled out his candy, "Only need a good riddle." He rolled it between his good finger before plucking it back in his mouth. The mere second without the candy actually made the pain worse, so he would be sucking on them for at least a few hours.
He didn't make a move to undo his handmade sling, or to remove his jacket. He would wait until the drug was put away, so instead he sat there sucking on his lollipop with childish smile on his face. Don't think I will be so easy, Jonathan.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Feb 26, 2012 17:11:07 GMT -5
Dr. Cranes face became expressionless as he listened to Nigma refuse the needle and proceed to put another candy in his mouth. He couldn't get the reaction of fear that he wanted from him, but he was not so quick to give up. Being in his broken state he would have plenty of chance. His stare into Nigma held for a few moments more as he began to turn the needle in his fingers. Who was in control?
The suspenseful moment ended as Dr. Crane finally turned the needle downwards and opened his jacket with his free hand. The syringe joined two others that were neatly strapped in. The difference between what they contained was defined. The liquid in the syringe he had for Nigma was clear, the ones in his jacket seemed to glow a bright yellow. After it was in place he padded his jacket back into place and reached for the splint on the floor.
“If you do not fear pain, so be it..” Dr. Crane spoke softly to Nigma and a small yet unstable smile appeared. There had been no movement to remove his hastily made sling and jacket. Was Nigma nervous? The thought pleased his senses. Everything could always be traced back to fear, even intelligence. “You will need to remove those..” He stated the obvious to him.
This was working in his favor, so he thought. Removing his jacket would expose anything that the Riddler was hiding from him underneath. It would have been unlikely that he wasn't carrying anything to defend himself with. His eyes turned from Nigma for a moment to the splint he was holding. His fingers wrapped around the plastic splint and he began to remove the straps from the top of it. Placing his arm in this and tightening it would hurt, any normal mind would have taken the pain killer. But these two had little reason to trust each other.
It wasn't the first time he had met Edward, he had heard of his elaborate schemes. Tonight for whatever reason it looked as if The Riddler had failed in whatever he planed to do, or at least didn't make it out half as well as he had liked. It would be unfortunate for him that he had walked into his world now. A world of terror and despair. His eyes shifted from Nigma momentarily as he thought of his mask. It was in a separate room from where they were. It was almost certain that before the night was out, he would need to use it on his unfortunate company.
Dr. Crane's silence with Nigma was calculated. They shared a common ability to get others to say more than they should. Of this he was aware of. He said nothing more to him for now as he waited for him to remove his mud covered green jacket.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 26, 2012 19:03:18 GMT -5
Edward's eyes were always highly observant. They danced along Jonathan's face and hand that held the syringe even after Edward rejected it. Jonathan was toying with him. He could see it with how calculated every move was. He wanted to create some type of tension over what would really happen with the needle. Edward already knew that it certainly would not be going into his bloodstream, so there was little to fear. It was sick though how Jonathan got his thrill from this, but Edward brushed it aside. He matched Jonathan's emotionless face with a playful smile. He had to give the good Doctor credit, keeping Edward's mind this active with his antics was successfully numbing out the pain from his arm and leg.
He watched as Jonathan opened his jacket and placed the syringe inside. He obviously noted the different colors. It was somewhat comforting to know Jonathan had been telling the truth that the drug was for pain, but then again, it's also possible that he had created a new advance type of fear toxin. You can never be too careful as far as Edward was concern. One must hope for the best, but always plan for the worse. He took note to where the syringes were kept in his jacket. A quite easy spot to either break or take the substance if necessary. The main concern would be Jonathan's airborne toxin, but the man would not use it unless he had the protection of his mask. Edward already knew that the mask wasn't in this room, so as far as Edward was concern, Jonathan wasn't as much of a threat as he was desperately trying to display. (Edward's ego talking...more than likely.)
He smirked, feeling a bit more comfortable with the information he had just stored. He still had a few tricks up his sleeves if he happened to be wrong, but when was Edward ever wrong?
The statement is an expected statement, and while he knows he has to get rid of the clothing, he admittedly did enjoy the extra caution of having fabric in the way of his veins. None the less, his arm would not set correctly if it was not dealt with now.
He rolled the lollipop into his cheek as his eyes noted the distance Jonathan was away from him. If his arms were busy, he could still properly use his leg to kick the chair out from underneath him. Yes, Jonathan really wasn't a threat at the moment, though he still doubted that the man actually was helping out of the goodness of his heart. The only thing that made Edward slightly uncomfortable was Jonathan unbreakable eye contact. Now, Edward had changed in front of men and women before. It was nothing new, and let's all be honest here, he was an attractive man who truly had nothing to hide...it was just the way Jonathan looked at him, like a rat in a cage. It was slightly disturbing.
"Ah yes, that would be helpful, wouldn't it?" he remarked. "Though I am sure that you don't want me dropping these wet and dirty clothing on your floor," he stated with a questionable smile of hidden motive. If Jonathan left to get some sort of basket or trash, it would certainly take away his eyes. "Then again, I don't believe your place has seen a Mexican cleaning lady in years," he commented with a condescending smirk, that might back track Jonathan from thinking anything of his first comment.
He then began to slowly take off the half done sling. He didn't do it slowly because of fear of what Jonathan would do, but rather to avoid making his injury worse. After the tie, he worked himself slowly out of his green jacket. He started with his his right arm that was uninjured then used his right arm to help free his injured one. His teeth pressed tightly on the stick of the lollipop as the pain worsen for a moment, but he freed himself of the wet jacket. His gun could be seen on his waist, but he made no action to remove it. He'd rather have that on him. Now for his shirt. This was a tough one because he could either rip off the sleeve, of an Armani silk shirt. He cringed at the thought. Or he could take it off all together. If he took it off, he exposed more of his skin that could be drugged. If he kept it on and ripped he would have less exposure, but a suspicious Scarecrow. Every rogue in the gallery understood how much Edward loved his high class clothing that expelled money and wealth. It would be unlike him to thugishly rip it apart. He pondered it for barely a second before his right hand then went to the buttons of his shirt. Like hell, he would ever rip his shirt, especially since the jacket had taken most of the dirt. Since his left hand was constantly holding his cane, it was quite easy for Edward to do most things with only one hand. The shirt was handled the same way as the jacket, and eventually he was freed of that as well.
He waited patiently for Jonathan to take the appropriate actions with the splint, but also kept his eyes on Jonathan's face. He wanted to understand what Jonathan was thinking at the moment. Was he taking note to the gun, and if so, did he really believe that was the only weapon he had on him. His slack pockets were the central of many gadgets the Riddler was known for.
"Now, I understand you're a Doctor, but how closely does psychiatry have with mending broken bones?" he asked. He never trusted in Doctors when it came to health, so this was nothing against Jonathan. Edward had read his fair share of medical books, so if the Doctor didn't know, he would rather take a look at it, himself.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Feb 26, 2012 22:24:20 GMT -5
Anyone that would study Dr. Crane would come to find that he was a reclusive and solitary person. When he would deal with other Professional Criminals there would always be an exterior motive. The idea of the doctor sitting in a room with anyone just to talk was unheard of from him. There was 'always' something he wanted. More times than not it was to bring the other person to their knees in terror before him. On the rare occasion however, he would use other criminals to get the results he wanted.
Exactly what he wanted from Edward Nigma, came to him the moment he let him inside his home. How he was going to get it from him was a different matter. The doctor usually had plenty of time to plan out his tactics, especially when dealing with other criminals. Luckily he was good at making decisions on the spot and changing his plans quickly, but there was always a base to start with. With Nigma it would have to be different, it was almost like playing a game of chess.
“It wont be a problem” Dr. Crane replied as he watched Nigma carefully pull off his jacket. It wasn't that he never cleaned up his apartment. There was just not much more that could be done to save it from it's current condition.
The doctor was focused as he watched Nigma's movements to remove his articles of clothing. His cold blue eyes darted to the gun that he had at his waist. That would be the first thing that needed to leave. Getting him to give it up would be another matter entirely. For now he kept his silence about it and waited to see if there was anything else The Riddler might be hiding from him. He watched him unbutton his shirt and remove it with one hand, it was impressive that he was able to do so with an injury as he claimed. Once the shirt was removed he finally got to see the injury itself. The bruised and swelled limb was proof enough, it was a fracture. Without an x-ray it was difficult to determine whether it was a clean fracture or not, but without the proper equipment they would have to make due.
The thought of the gun didn't leave his mind as he began to carefully look over his arm. His eyes met Nigma's and stared at him coldly for a moment almost insulted by the question. “I am a licensed MD, but if you 'fear' my capabilities you may take the splint and place the arm yourself...” He couldn't help himself. Note that he said 'I am'. Dr. Crane was stripped of a valid title at Arkham Asylum, but you would never get him to acknowledge that it happened. It didn't make him any less capable, he just no longer had the approval of society and their rules.
His fingers wrapped around the splint and he moved it from his lap holding it for just a moment. There was just one more thing he needed to say before he decided whether to let Dr. Crane or himself do it.“Your gun..” He said quite seriously, his eyes never leaving Nigma's at this moment. It wasn't a request. “You must understand it is for your own safety Nigma, firing a gun in this environment would not be wise.” He added in an attempt to justify his reasoning to him. Slowly he extended his free hand waiting for him him to comply if he would.
What he said was the truth, the lab was full of hazardous explosive material. Just any two of the wrong chemical meeting could have a result that would surely kill them both. However, always having an exterior motive in mind it wasn't the only reason to get the gun from him.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 26, 2012 23:51:11 GMT -5
Edward watched as Jonathan studied his arm. This was actually the first time, Edward had visual seen the damage and not felt it. His natural smirk leaving for a moment for a straight line frown. It bothered him to no end to know that this was caused by such an idiotic stupid accident. If he could have caught himself before the fall, he would not be in such a predicament. He could have used his cane to keep the normal weight off his leg, and he could have waited it out in some dumpy bar with a appletini. He would certainly not be seeking safety from a fear junkie.
The glances to his gun did not go unnoticed, but Edward didn't say anything, he only waited for the reaction of his comment. He couldn't help, but smirk when Jonathan gave him a stern glare and announced his degree. Edward never quite understood why he was labeled with a large ego when other rogue's possessed it as well. It also was a simple button to push.
The comment on fear almost caused Edward to roll his eyes, but he contained it. With Jonathan's eyes baring into him the way they were, he doubted any expression went missed. He wasn't fearful. He just had no interest in dealing with incompetent actions. The reason for his leg that had made him a cripple for the rest of his life was partially caused by Doctor error. Doctor Leam soon learned of his mistake and lost an important limb from his own body, but Edward hadn't the time to go through every Doctor and test them for intelligence.
If it were possible for Edward to put the amount of pressure needed to splint his own arm, he would have done so in a heart beat. It kept Jonathan's fingers off of him, and prevented any possible mistakes to his arm. Unfortunately, you needed both hands to instill a splint at it's best.
He didn't have time to tell Jonathan to go ahead because his gun had been brought up to the forefront of conversation. Edward's eyebrow arched along his forehead as he listened to Jonathan give his explanation. He smirked, so that was the move Jonathan was going to make. Jonathan had just confirmed to him that Jonathan had full plans to drug him by the end of this endeavor. While Edward had been suspicious, it meant something completely different to have it confirmed. It meant that he truly had to disable Jonathan once he put the splint on. Amazingly enough, all this thinking, plotting, and planning had taken away the pain of his leg, and was slowly numbing his arm. The splint would cause pain, but he would have to think through it, and react fast.
"Riddle me this, a spark starts a forest fire. A forest fire starts. How was it started?" he said softly as he smiled knowingly, before shifting in his chair. His good hand moving to the gun. "You see Jonathan, you're statement is interesting," he began, "You use the word 'firing'. Are you assuming I will be firing this weapon? I have no reason to fire it as of now, but are you suggesting there will be a reason for me to fire this weapon in the future? If there is a reason for me to fire this weapon in the future then it would appear that I would want to keep the gun on me. If there is no reason for me to fire the weapon in the future, then I will not be firing the gun and therefore not be causing any harm in your lab, so it would still seem suitable to keep the gun on me." He explained his logic with a taunting grin on his face.
Even without the gun on him, he still had his Question Mark explosives in his pocket. Edward understood that Crane was playing with dangerous chemicals. He would use that against him and threaten his research if that was the only way to leave.
But Edward also understood that in the best game of wits, it was best to make the opponent believe he was in control. It led to mistakes on their part.
"I can think of another reason why you would want my gun off me," he said with a smirk, "You're afraid. Question, what will the Riddler do with the weapon?" He pulled out his gun and with his good hand he released the ammunition round onto his lap. "Answer, for today, nothing. So I will settle your fears and hand it over," he stated with a taunting look in his eyes as he placed the gun in his free hand. Edward then stuffed the round into his pocket.
He kept his eyes locked with Jonathan's. If he wanted a staring contest, they could have one. Edward would still win because Edward always won.
"I digress though!" he said loudly, almost breaking the tension that seemed to keep feeling the room, "My mind seems to jump ahead of me at times, and I can forget that the body can have....limitations." the word sounded sour on his tongue, "I suppose I can trust your skills as a Doctor that you will be more adequate in handling a splint."
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Feb 27, 2012 17:44:59 GMT -5
The tension between the two was steadily rising. Dr. Crane ran over the Riddler's methods in his mind over and over. What kind of fear drove this man? His actions, his plans, seemed to be based upon logical reasoning. Whatever fear did drive him, Crane wanted to know, and he would get it out of him.
He was calm, steadying his breathing and preparing for what might happen next. It always starts with a riddle. A this moment it was best not to answer, not that Nigma expected one anyway. Time almost seemed to slow as he listened carefully to Edward explain his reasons for not handing over his weapon although steadily reaching for it. The doctors hands clenched ever so slightly and released. It would have been the perfect storm.
Dr. Crane saw it play in his head, the Riddler would pull out the gun and instead of putting it in his hand put it to his head. It could have all been over with one pull of the trigger. Nothing but a smile could escape from the very thought of this. The movement from Crane would have been beautiful as he demonstrated his art of violent dancing. Slowed down it would have looked like a ballet with his wrists, in one perfect motion to disarm the gun from his hand. The shot would have still left the gun but it would have missed creating a catastrophic event. If they were to survive the sheer force of the explosion. Crane could only imagine himself standing over the Riddler in the ash and the fire and announcing that his Angel of Death has come, and there is nothing left for him but Fear and despair. What a glorious moment it would have been.
But the Riddler was too smart for that. The clip was released and fell into his lap. The very mention of fear from him made the doctor smile. The air returned to the room it seemed as the gun was placed into his hand. Nigma broke the tension as he mentioned the splint.
Holding both the gun and the splint in his hands now the doctor lifted from his seat and walked a short distance to a lab table to place the weapon out of reach.”Tell me Edward....What is it you fear?” he asked almost rhetorically. It wasn't too often he'd get an answer. While he was there he grabbed a clean rag from a neatly kept folded pile of them. He walked back over and let it fall in Nigma's lap. “You will need this...” Dr. Crane stated as he began to inspect the fracture once again. He would have to move it, it was going to be very painful. He imagined that The riddler would know what the rag was for, to put between his teeth. The doctor stood to Nigma's side and just behind him. In one hand he held the splint ready to put it in place as soon as he determined exactly where the bone was sitting and where it needed to go back.
Gently his hand moved to Nigma's elbow and moved it ever so slightly outward. It would only take seconds for him to determine the fracture from there. Nigma must have an incredible pain tolerance. He wondered just how much he could take. Seeing and feeling the bone slide from where it was for just a moment Dr. Crane knew how to position it.
His hand moved to the backside of the splint and in one motion he slid it to his arm. He bent down a bit for more where he was standing and whispered into Nigma's ear softly. “Are you scared?” Before he roughly applied the pressure to the correct position, snapping it and the plastic splint into place. Using both hands now he pulled the straps tight and adjusted it properly.
After it was over he paused for a moment watching The Riddlers reactions. He wanted to savor every moment, the deed was done but he was a bit rougher than a normal doctor would have been. But it was done correctly, and the fracture would heal with time. Now what was left? The Riddler had gotten what he wanted, now it was Dr. Crane's turn.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 27, 2012 22:07:11 GMT -5
Edward would have leaned back in his chair as he normally did in such a situation, with his legs pushed out and his hands behind his head. Unfortunately, when he accidentally went to move his arm, he was painfully reminded why he was actually here. He winced ever slightly, but luckily, Jonathan had already stood and had his back to him at the moment. The pain was the only thing that kept him from outright laughing at Jonathan’s question. It was absolutely absurd yet completely predictable out of his unfriendly acquaintance. A mixed of humor pain showed on Edward’s face as he turned look at the man. “It’s quite simple actually, but where would be the fun if I just solved the riddle for you. It’s far more entertaining to watch you try, like a fat kid excising in a way,” he remarked and couldn’t contain the small laughter that escaped afterwards.
It halted immediately when Crane turned around threw a rag on his lap. His smirk turned to a small frown as he studied it. You are not going to make this easy on me, are you, Jonathan, he thought silently to himself. He picked up the rag with his uninjured hand. It would be beneficial to have something to distract his pain, and possibly cover any unwelcome noise that he would utter. He did not want Jonathan to get some sick pleasure out his moment of weakness. But…what if this rag wasn’t as clean as it seemed. It was sitting on his lab table, no doubt it has something filthy on it. Switching out a lollipop for rag also just sounded nasty, but the good Doctor Crane didn’t give him any more time to contemplate it before his touchy fingers were on his arm.
The pain hit him like a truck. He had thought his mind had numbed the pain in his arm, but no, it appeared that his mind had only gotten use to it not moving. Edward bit down on the lollipop in his mouth, as his hand tightened around the rag he now had. The only sound he made was a small hiss, which stopped when Edward started counting. He counted how many times Jonathan fingers shifted his bone. He counted the seconds that ticked by. He counted the joints in Jonathan’s fingers, taking note to how boney they were. He counted how long it took for him to crack his candy. The pain was still at the forefront of his mind. He almost could swear that he felt the bone scrapping against his muscles and tearing them with skin, but he knew it was his mind exaggerating it. He took a deep breath, but it rarely helped.
He was so distracted by the pain and his necessary need to count, that he didn’t even notice when some of Jonathan’s long fingers left his arm and went to the splint, nor the splint sliding onto his arm. It wasn’t until he felt hot breath against his ear and a taunting dark voice, did he lose track of counting and realize what was about to happen. He mentally cursed Crane for distracting him out of his trance! Without numbing OCD counting it meant….
He didn’t scream, but a pitiable whine did leave his throat, as he continued to grind his teeth together and grip into that flimsy cloth that seemed to only be taunting him. “Jesus Christ,” he cursed, even though he had no religious bone in his body. His head felt like it was becoming fogging, and with the lack of focus, the pain from his leg became intensely evident as well. Losing focus was like opening a floodgate of pain to the Riddler. It was one of the many reasons his mind was always so sharp, but in times like this, it felt like that first time waking up in the hospital. Knives carving along his skin as it rips muscle from his bone, or a cat scratching at his leg like a post. The pain in his arm was different. It felt like a large heavy rock had just been thrown on it.
For any normal man, he would be unconscious or into shock, but Edward had dealt with this type of pain every day for the past six years. He closed his eyes and willed himself to breath. Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out. If you can breath that means oxygen is getting to your organs. Oxygen is getting to his brain. If his brain has oxygen he can think logically. Where is he? A mixture of a smell of rain, chemicals, dust, and a distant smell of litter. Gotham East, and it was raining. He had been running from someone. Yes, someone and he came here. Here was…chemicals….Jonathan. Yes, he was at Jonathan’s. Jonathan is the Scarecrow.
Jonathan Crane is the Scarecrow.
His eyes snapped open like he just woken up from a dream. His mind jumping to the worst and immediately distracting him from whatever pain he was feeling. How long had he been trapped in his pain? Hopefully no more, then a few seconds, but more likely a minute…or….
Anymore then a few seconds Jonathan could already be centimeters away from drugging him with fear toxin. His eyes darted for the man, to best dart or dodge whatever the man was considering, but he couldn’t find him immediately. “Jonathan, I would think twice before doing whatever you’re about to do,” he muttered, as his free hand dropped the rag and went into his pocket. He had a feeling that he was too late though. He scolded himself for letting the pain get the best of him. His mind was stronger then such a ridiculous notion. “Riddle me this, I am born in fear, raised in truth, and I come to my own indeed. When there comes a time that I’m called forth, I come to serve the cause of need. What am I?” he asked with his arrogant smirk, even when he knew the odds were drastically against him.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Feb 28, 2012 1:14:57 GMT -5
For a moment he stood there watching remarkable man. He was certainly unlike any other he had faced before. The rag he had given him had been left unused. Any normal man would have needed something between his teeth to keep from biting off his tongue. Nigma must be in an incredible amount of pain now. Everything worked out in his favor so far. A scream would have saved him at least a small amount of torment to come. But without the satisfaction, Dr. Crane knew what his next goal with the Riddler was to be.
The whines of pain weren't enough to please Dr. Crane. Pain was just pain, but fear was something entirely different, fear was beautiful. The Riddler cursed obviously doubled over in pain, he didn't seem like the religious type. When the common man was faced with their doom they turned to their Gods. But the one in front of him was not a common man, he must be losing his head. The thought of it pleased him for only a moment. It was a marvel that Nigma was still conscious. He could fix that...
Standing at the angle he was Dr. Crane wasn't seeing far too much of Nigma's face, only the side. The smaller emotions would slip past him for now. It didn't matter, there was only one emotion he was interested in from The Riddler and right now he was in far too much pain to experience it. The moment of opportunity was slowly approaching, he was fading, making vague attempts to keep him mind from slipping away. Slowly Dr. Crane bent down from behind him and reached for the Riddler's cane that so conveniently lay beside him on the floor. He didn't pick it up right away but instead slid it towards himself before letting his fingers grip around it.
Nigma began to speak at this moment. It was far too late to turn back now, his plans were already in motion. He listened to the riddle that was presented and a sinister smile appeared across his lips. He may have not had the answer that The Riddler wanted, but it was the answer he was going to get. “The Question..” the dark voice of fear poured out of the doctor as he swung the question marked head of the cane up and towards the lower back of Nigma's head. The cerebellum, the hind brain, controlling Movement, Coordination, balance, and equilibrium. He would be out cold.
The irony that The Riddler would fall this way. At the hands of the device he used to support his weight. Shaped as a question mark, it was almost too perfect. Dr. Crane savored the moment taking in the sensory of it all. He could still hear the rain as it ran down the single window at his less than welcoming home.
The Riddler was silent now, the force of the blow wasn't enough to knock him out of the chair, but he would have quite a headache when he came to. Dr. Crane realized that Nigma probably wouldn't be like this long, he had a stronger will than most and a tolerance that he had seen with his own eyes. His fingers when to Nigma's neck to check for a pulse. He would be alright. Carefully he moved to pick him up being quite cautious of The Riddlers arm. He didn't weigh as much as he expected while lifting him, dead weight usually feels a lot heavier. With him in hand he headed to the dark room.
The dark room was adjacent to the one the Riddler saw previously from his seat. This one was far more sinister. A red glow came from the single dark light in the room. Many had seen this room before, the traces of blood still left on the walls and the floor was proof enough. Painful torture was not really what Crane ever wanted to accomplish. Most of the time it was his own patients that injured themselves.
He laid the Riddler down in the middle of the room under the glowing red light and checked his vitals again. Satisfied, he lifted from his position and left Nigma alone momentarily, it was only a few moments before he was back in the room now with some old rope and his mask in hand. This wasn't a normal circumstance. Normally he would have taken an injured paitent to the containment room so he could strap them in properly and they couldn't move about. For Nigma, he felt the man at least deserved a chance after that display.
Setting his mask on a table near the door he proceeds to Nigma to bind his feet together. The knot was study enough to his knowledge to hold. Prying it apart with one hand would take time, but it could be done. Remembering the knowledge he retrieved early from watching Nigma use one hand to undress himself, it wouldn't be difficult for him to undo the knot. Instead he kept both hands forward and bound them together. In the same way he had done his feet. Careful of his arm, Dr. Crane lifted Nigma to a kneeling position and left the room. He would check on him after he was done collecting a few items needed for what he planed to do next. He remained aware that Nigma could wake at any moment while he was still preparing. 'It didn't mater' He thought with a smile.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2012 14:25:54 GMT -5
A strong pounding tackled the back of his head. It almost felt like a gnawing sensation. Edward could handle many type of pain, but the pain he hated the most were headaches. They limited his ability to think as clearly as he usually would. He groaned as he shifted his head ever slightly. Why did he even have headache, was the first question to pop to his mind. It was answered quickly after.
Jonathan.
He frowned at the thought. The man must have knocked him out when Edward came out of his haze of pain. What a brutish action! Edward would make Jonathan pay for thinking he could actually out smart him, but first, he would have to get out of this puzzle.
His eyes opened slowly trying not to worsen his already terrible headache. When red invaded his eyes sight, he became confused. He blinked quickly trying to adjust his eyes and take in his surroundings. It didn't take the Riddler long to note the blood stains and the plainness in this room. It reminded him of what he supposed government secret torture chambers were like without the ominous red lighting. Joy...exactly what Edward want to be dealing with. His eye took in the room in search for one another thing, the man who had put him here.
Edward was pleasantly surprised to see that he was indeed alone. First mistake, Jonathan, he thought to himself as he attempted to move. When his legs were stopped, he looked down. Rope. It didn't look like that tough of a knot to undo even with his arm in pain, but he quickly looked at his hands and realized his wrist were tied as well. He frowned. If he moved his good arm, he would more than likely shot pain into his other. Damn Jonathan, he was using this temporary weakness against him. He had no interest in reliving that pain. His mind finally felt back in control of it, and with his headache he doubt he could reel himself back to sanity if another bout of pain spasm hit him.
If he had another lollipop he could force himself through it, but his candy was in his jacket pocket.
Pockets!
He shook his waist ever slightly to see if his slack pockets still had his trinkets. When he felt weight against his skin he smirked. Second mistake, Jonathan. He should have checked before he left him alone. It was out of the question now to use his mini explosives. He wouldn't be able to escape the blast in time with his legs tied up. He first needed to solve that issue before he considered escaping this room and the building.
He moved his hand towards his pocket and was welcomed with uncomfortable pain. He cursed quietly. There was no way he could bend his arm the way he needed to, but he needed the pen in his pocket that was also a pocket knife. Hmm, he puzzled over the problem as he looked over his position.
He still had gravity.
He smirked and put his weight towards his good side of his body. He managed to move from this strange kneeling position to sitting partially. He brought his legs out in front o him then laid down on his back. Don't move my arm, was his only thought as he shifted. He brought his feet to the ground with his knees bent in the air. He then pushed himself against the floor using his shoulders and head to prevent him from sliding. This allowed him to stick his pelvis up it the air. He shook his waist and as expected little trinkets landed and clinked on the floor: question mark explosives, cubic puzzle smoke bombs, puzzle piece noise makers, and finally a green pen.
He tilted his head to see where it landed before glancing at the door. He wasn't certain how much time he had before Jonathan, no not Jonathan, the Scarecrow, walked in. He would have to work fast.
He brought his butt back down to the ground and began to wiggle to the spot he needed. He rolled onto his right side, or good side before slowing trying to lay flat on his stomach. This was going to hurt. He already mentally prepared himself for the worst so when the weight did hit his in pain arm, he only grimaced, much more focus on getting hold of the pen then the pain. He managed to align himself exactly to where the pen had landed, so his good hand easily grabbed the pen. He smirked, one step finished. He glanced to the door. He really didn’t have the time to squabble over all this. As soon as Jonathan saw all of Edward’s toys on the floor, he would certainly take them away. Hiding the pen for now was truly the best choice, so to his discomfort he moved the pen towards his bad arm.
He looked at the tiles on the ground and began counting. He then slowly pushed the pen into his splint. He mouthed every number as he counted and distracted himself from the screaming that his arm was doing. The pounding in his head wasn’t helping, but he wasn’t counting the bangs against. He was counting tiles. When it was finally hidden within the splint, he let out a deep breath and chuckled against the floor. It had been sometime since a challenge had actually lead him to such desperate actions. He had to applaud Jonathan for that. He then realized he was still laying on the floor. It was suspicious to say the least, and the weight was hurting his arm. He rolled towards his right side again, just as he heard the door crack open.
As he landed on his back, there stood Jonathan. He looked up at him from his lying position on the floor and smirked. “You know most host offer a bed to sleep in, but I presume the floor is the best I will get from you,” he remarked.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Feb 28, 2012 20:37:32 GMT -5
When he was outside of the room he went to the containment room to gather various small bottles from the drawers. He picked up each one and read the labels, pulling out the ones he wanted and putting back the ones he didn't. Reaching across the table he grabbed several capped syringes. For now he wouldn't fill them with anything. He found out while working at Arkham that the suspense leading to the actual event is what created the real fear in their eyes. Every moment would be savored with Edward.
Having everything in hand he turned around and walked out of the containment room. He opened the door to the dark room slowly and saw The Riddler falling to his back. Seeing him prop up to speak made Dr. Crane give into a small smile. He was awake and already back to his normal self. Taking a few more steps and closing the door behind him his attention turned to the table next to the door. Nigma's taunting statement was ignored. Slowly he placed the bottles that had filled his arms in a straight row on the table. He placed the labels facing away from Nigma. Some of the clearer bottles could be read backwards if he were able. But that didn't concern him. He would have enough to worry about...
Doing this Dr. Crane made sure he stood to the side letting Nigma watch him. One by one he took the needles from his hand and placed them on the table, making sure he was abe to see each and every one. After everything was in place on the table from his arms he reached into his jacket and pulled out two syringes. Dr. Crane kept in mind that the foremost needle was morphine and left it strapped. The two Syringes were filled to the brim with a glowing yellow substance. Slowly he placed them on the table as well and turned his gaze to Nigma.
Something was different about how he had left the room. Various things were scattered about the floor around his captive. His eyes scanned over them for only a moment, only recognizing the puzzle cube, and few smoke bombs. The other objects Dr. Crane wasn't so sure about. “You have been busy” The doctor said letting a small smirk appear playing off a statement that Edward made previously when he entered his home. His posture changed leaning back against the table and resting his hands on it. His left hand moved to his glasses slowly removing them and watching Nigma for a moment.
“Do you know what a phobia is Nigma?” He asked now with a rather sinister look. Knowing that the question itself would be enough to rile Edwards emotions. If only a little, he was a man that hated ignorance. By the end of this 'session' he would be sure that The Riddler knew what a true phobia was and that The Scarecrow knew what his darkest fears were. With a careful movement he placed his glasses neatly on the table behind him and moved closer to Nigma.
He kept a comfortable distance between them for now. The suspense of what was to come was the best part. Looking down at him he tried to find some fear in his eyes. Finding some fear, some weakness in him would give him everything he needed. For now Nigma was to be his lab rat, his subject of study. Theory’s would be tested one by one, until the desired result came. Edward was only a man after all, and every man had a breaking point.
The expressionless doctor stared down at Nigma trying to pry him apart mentally. The life seemed to leave from his eyes as his mind worked over exactly what he was. What significance he thought he had, What fear drove the man? The red glow from the light above them dimmed for a moment and flickered. Dr. Crane would have probably noticed if it went out completely but his eye contact never broke. The light remained on, not causing a problem at the moment. Even if it was to go out, It would only work to his advantage...
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Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2012 21:55:12 GMT -5
He ignored him…again. At this point it was becoming less annoying and more expected. Is a conversation that difficult to keep, Jonathan? Edward watched the man as he moved into the room with careful and observant eyes. He had noticed something of Jonathan. He had caught it the first time he met the man, but it was becoming very clear as this night went on. Jonathan’s moves were all planned and calculated based on an assumption of how to create fear, which he obviously gathered from his research. The way he slowly walked across the room, as if drawing out time, the way he make certain that Edward sees the drugs and needles, as if giving him a hint of what is to be expected, and even the simple motion of taking his glasses off, as if putting the good doctor away. They all were actions to increase the tension and ‘fear’ from anticipation, and Edward saw straight through them.
To Edward such actions were merely moves on a chessboard trying to distract him from the King. The Queen might threateningly be moving up the board, but that shouldn’t cause you to think rashly. After all, the game isn’t over yet.
Edward patiently laid on the floor as he tilted his head and watched Jonathan’s mechanical movements and actions. He took note to how many bottles and syringes laid on the table. He judged the distance that Jonathan was from him and the table. He calculated the distance to the door, noting that Jonathan had not locked it. Mistake three. He judged the type of table in the room and the stability of it. He noted how dark it was in the room. His eyes even fell to Jonathan’s shoes taking in the cheapness of quality. Come on Jonathan, if you have enough money to buy your chemicals you have to enough money to dress properly.
His first rhetorical question pulls him from his thoughts, and while Edward recognized the taunt behind it, he decided to answer it anyways. “Boredom. I must solve it somehow,” he commented off the cuff, expecting Jonathan to move the trinkets away or outside the room. Edward might be crippled, but with his mind, he could make anything into a dangerous death trap. Talk to his many victims that Edward had no care to remember because they were too stupid to solve the riddle. Therefore, Edward expected Jonathan to remove the items as soon as possible, but once again his pondering was stopped by a question.
The question caused him to frown immediately. Who did he think he was? Edward Nigma was the Riddler, the Prine of Puzzle, the Sphinx. He was not joe the plumber down the street. He was a genius. Why would Jonathan ask him such a stupid ridiculous question?! As always with stupid question, the pain in his leg picked up, but his irritation outweighed it. “Who do you take me for?” he snapped, “Please save us both the time and skip your dull and absolutely ridiculous idiotic questions.” He wasn’t even going to dignify such a stupid question with an answer. He was angry, but what made him caused his anger to rise even more was the fact that Jonathan was ignoring the gadgets.
He really was just going to leave them there? Did he not think the Riddler could use them against him? Did he not realize who he was dealing? Did he think the Riddler was just an easy man to take down? It was the most disrespectful thing he had ever seen! He knew the rogues didn’t respect him or see him as a threat….but to just shove it in his face. It was infuriating!
His logical side was telling him that him leaving them was for his benefit, and while that was true, he couldn’t get over the annoyance of it all. He glared at the man who stayed near the table. He wasn’t afraid of him. No, because soon this man would be reminded of why the Riddler was known as the most intelligent man in the rogue gallery.
Forth mistake is going to be your undoing, and if you haven’t figured out what the forth mistake is then you obviously are not up for the game.
He had already judged the distance and the location of everything, so it shouldn’t be difficult. He just needed to be quick.
“Jonathan,” he said lying his head on the ground, “You really have caught me on a bad day, and I have become bored again.” He lifted his feet and slammed it down on the rubix cube smoke bomb. Normally, you had to solve the puzzle to slowly admit the smoke, but it worked with brute force as well in a crisis. The smoke just emptied out faster, which is what Edward preferred at this point. Just the cube made a snapping sound and the smoke started to lift, Edward had his feet to the ground. He was multitasking now.
“Oh and Jonathan,” he said aloud, “I forgot to mention, those question marks are explosives.” He said as he slide one across the floor towards Crane. It wasn’t set to detonate, but Jonathan had no idea so why inform him.
Edward then quickly used his feet to push his body towards the table in a quick fashion, as he pulled out his pen. His mind was so caught up in his plan that pain was secondary at the moment. He needed to free himself from these ropes, so he uncapped the top with his mouth as he continued move across the floor. Of course, he had calculated the distance to the table, so when he was finally close enough, he paused with his work of the pen and focus solely on hitting the weakest point in the table leg. With enough force he slammed his back into the point, and heard the leg crack. That was all he needed to shift the table off balance and the syringes and bottles came rolling off the table and landing with a crash against the ground. The sound of broken glass never sounded so sweeter. He silently hoped Crane’s glasses went as well. It certainly bought him time, but it also made it more difficult for him to move around the floor, so he stayed in his position and began cutting the rope with the pen as fast as he could. Hopefully Crane would be too busy with the bomb, and it would give him time, but he had feeling that would be the case.
Time…it seemed like it was constantly against Edward Nigma tonight.
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