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“WHAT WAS THAT?”
Everyone in the room winced when the door to the control room was thrown open with such force that it bounced off the adjacent wall. Before it even began to swing back, Edward was storming across the catwalk, his lips white with rage and his hand gripped so tightly around his cane that the leather audibly squeaked with every move. He righted it with a twirl that spoke less of theatrics, and more of a barely controlled desire to hit something. His glare at the scene below was nothing short of fiendish.
“You imbeciles had one job. One job! Strap a human being who is literally half your size and weight into a cage! How did this happen?”
Two of his latest workers were dragging the mutilated body of a hostage out of the blades below the floor of the trap. The other began to gesticulate wildly.
“She caught me by surprise, boss! She got out of the restraints and tried runnin’, only Nicky was already testin’ the floor and she just…fell in!”
One of the remaining hostages suspended above them gagged when a second man pulled a left arm from the grinder, followed by the left hand.
The poor bastard now receiving the full weight of Edward’s ire grimaced at the carnage and spread his hands beseechingly at his boss. “I swear, it was just dumb luck!”
“Dumb is the kindest word to apply to this,” Edward growled. The sound his cane made as he slammed the end into the floor held as much finality as the dark side of Two Face’s coin. “This trap needs seven people acting as counterweights. Explain to me, David, how we are supposed to accommodate such a thing with only six hostages?!”
“I’ll get you another one!” Bloody footprints tracked David’s rush to the door. “I swear, I’ll snatch the first guy I see off the street, I can be back in—”
Edward stabbed his finger at the jumbo screen above them, which displayed a live feed from hacked CCTV cameras of a winged shadow grappling through Gotham’s skyline. “Batman has already passed the second checkpoint, you fool! There is no time!”
David’s accomplices kept their mouths shut and eyes to the floor, obviously more than willing to serve up their compatriot as a scapegoat. The Riddler, much like the corpse they were carrying, was of a considerably slighter build compared to the muscle he hired. Anyone who survived Gotham long enough, however, knew one of the city’s cardinal rules; the title of Rogue was never given, but earned. Edward Nygma needed none of The Scarecrow’s intimidating height or Bane’s inhuman strength to quail everyone in the room, regardless of but especially in his anger. There was a clear desire for punishment coiled in his every muscle and word, a violence held only in check by Edward’s personal gentlemanly code. And, as every henchman under his employ could attest, even that would only stretch so far.
After a tense minute, during which David prayed to every god he’d ever heard of, Edward pinched his nose and took three long, deep breaths. He was muttering to himself, though it was impossible to tell if it was the formation of a new idea or just an elaborate string of insults. Finally Edward straightened, removed his hat to smooth his hair, and looked down his nose at the others.
“Fortunately for you, I always have contingency plans.” When he snapped his fingers, everyone stood a little straighter. “You two, dump that out back and make sure there's no blockage between the saws. Leave the blood—it adds character. You.” Edward put his hat back on and walked back to the control room with a flippant crook of his fingers. “Come with me.”
In his haste to follow, David missed the pitying headshake of the henchmen behind him.
Edward stood with his back to David, watching one of the monitors showing Batman’s progress and drumming his fingers against the golden question mark at the head of his cane. His posture was relaxed, and his voice was back to its normal volume and lilt when he said, “Shut the door behind you and come here.”
David shuffled forward, stopping only at Edward’s raised hand. If he had a hat, it would be in his hands. “Tell me what to do, boss,” he pleaded. “I swear, I’ll fix this. I’ll get you a seventh guy. Fuck, I’ll get you ten guys. We can still kill the Bat.”
“...We?” Edward’s laughter was ten shades of patronizing and smug, like he knew a thousand of the world’s secrets and thought it cute to hear you try to guess just one.
“Oh my dear, penitent, stupid man. ‘We’ aren’t doing anything. I will be the one to rip the mantle from Batman’s shoulders and expose him for the fraud that he is. I will dash his bones against the pavement only after I have picked every last inch of his brain and shown him to be wanting. I will win this game between us, and in the process will drag the collective intelligence of this city out of the mud one simpleton at a time. That is what I am going to do.”
David’s eyes darted toward the door. He had to swallow hard before he could speak. “A-and…what about me, boss?”
The cane seemed to come from nowhere, slamming into David’s jaw hard enough to produce a resounding crack. David, completely blindsided by the speed and force of the blow, stumbled backward and tripped over a chair, sending both him and it crashing to the ground. Before his stunned mind could comprehend what just happened, the cane was pressing mercilessly against the soft flesh of his neck.
Cruelty falsely sweetened Edward’s words as he announced, with all the aplomb of a seasoned performer, “You, my friend, have the grand honor of being my contingency plan! All that cage really needs is a body. Civilian or criminal?” He shrugged. “Superfluous! You have more than proven your candidacy with that wondrous display of sheer idiocy just now. Bravo, my good man!” Anger once again darkened Edward’s countenance as he ground the cane deeper into David’s throat.
“Bra. Vo.”
He avoided the wild swing David made at his legs with a smooth step backward before gesturing to the bodyguards previously standing unnoticed in the dark corners of the room. The faux geniality returned like a switch, and Edward wagged a finger at David once he was hauled to his feet.
“Now, now, I know you’re excited, but let’s try to save some of that energy for the show, shall we?”
“Boss, please, gimme another chance!” David thrashed against his captors until Edward bludgeoned him with the cane again. He heaved, and blood began to flow from his nose. “Y-you don’t have to do this…”
Edward pulled out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped down the curve of the question mark while he contemplated the screen of the boobytrapped room.
“Hm…yes. Yes, we should have the time. You.” Edward gestured to the man on David’s left. “Switch the hostage in the far-left cage with him. It’s the farthest one from the starting point. If I’m right—and I always am—it’ll be the one Batman goes for last, and therefore the least likely to be saved.”
“Yes, sir.”
Edward smiled at David and patted his swelling jaw. “Now, now, no tears,” he chastised over David’s continued begging. “You should be proud! The last and greatest thing you will ever do in your mundane existence will be to help further my cause of culling every inferior mind from Gotham’s streets. I promise such service does not go unappreciated!”
With a final pat, Edward turned back to the computer. “Off you go,” he directed his guards, who immediately began dragging David toward the door.
“No…stop! Please, boss, please! PLEASE!”
Edward's attention had already turned back to Batman's approach. He looked like he was working through a dozen different equations in his head while still remembering to straighten out the creases from his lapels.
“Remember, gentlemen,” he called distractedly. “The far-left cage.”