Chapter Text
The Riddler—Edward Nygma—paced back and forth in front of him as Tim watched through the bars of his admittedly large cage. He wasn’t fearless, no, but the Riddler was probably one of the safer rogues to get kidnapped by. He usually gave you back.
“Tell me, Batman. It's shorter than the rest, but when you're happy, you raise it up like it's the best. What is it?”
“Thumb,” Tim muttered.
Riddler whipped around, turning off the intercom. “What did you say?”
“It’s your thumb. Shorter than the rest of the fingers, but you raise it up when you’re happy.”
Riddler stared at him for a moment, then said rapid-fire, “I am rarely touched but often held, and if you are smart you'll use me well. What am I?”
“Tongue,” Tim answered promptly.
“I need to improve my material,” Riddler muttered.
“I’ve just been following you. Your career, I mean.”
Riddler stared at him. “Sure, kid. Flattery isn’t going to work here.”
“I’m not trying to flatter you,” Tim said. “Okay, fine, not only flatter you. You showed up about a year ago. You’re intelligent, in this for the fun or for your own neurosis. Do you leave clues for the thrill or because it’s a plea to be caught?”
Ed stepped toward Tim’s cage, and Tim half expected to get hit. Instead, the Riddler smirked and leaned a hand on the bars, slouching toward Tim. “I’m a criminal who leaves clues. I’m the Riddler wrapped in an enigma. Who am I?”
“You’re Edward Nygma,” Tim said.
The Riddler blinked.
Tim smiled. “Told you.”
“You’re a cocky kid.”
“Not cocky,” Tim said, shaking his head. “I just know things.”
“I wonder...What else do you know?” Riddler asked.
Riddler walked into his new lair to find a kid seated at his computer. “Who’re you? Whoever you are, you’ve made a big mistake!”
The boy spun his chair. He wore a green suit with a question mark tie. His feet barely skimmed the ground.
“Tim?” Riddler said in surprise.
Tim nodded. “I’ve been thinking, and I thought you could use a sidekick.”
Riddler eyed him.
“That second rate copycat, the Cluemaster, has one,” Tim pointed out. “Cluekid. I’ve seen her around.”
“Pffft. I’m better than him.”
“Prove it. Get a better assistant.”
“Why do you care? You’re a rich kid, why should you help me?”
“I’m bored,” Tim said with a shrug. “You seem like a decent guy, I’d like to see you win. And besides, my parents don’t actually care about me as anything other than a status symbol.”
“How should I know you won’t decide to turn me over to someone else when you get bored?”
Tim met his eyes with the most genuine hope Ed had ever seen. “I won’t. You’re the only person who’s given me the time of day.”
Ed considered the kid a moment, then nodded. “But you’re not getting access to most of my plans until I can trust you.”
“Of course.” Tim jumped up, a grin spreading across his face. He pumped Ed’s hand up and down. “Thank you, sir!”
Ed blinked, a bit taken aback. “Uh...my pleasure. Now go home to bed, alright? I don’t need Batman swooping down from the ceiling to accuse me of kidnapping.”
“Yes, sir!” Tim said, leaping up and practically running from the room, giving Ed a cheeky salute as he did so.
Ed shook his head. This could backfire, of course, but it’d be nice to have another person around capable of carrying on intelligent conversation, even if that person was—ten? Eleven?
At any rate, there went one thing the Cluemaster held over him.
Cluemaster—the heck kind of name was that even?