Chapter Text
= “Hand me the socket wrench, would you?”
Ed held his hand out to the henchman beside him, hunched over yet another mechanical marvel of his own creation. Making his lair more self-sufficient was a key part of running the operation these days- Villains had to become self-sustaining in order to thrive. The city had already cut his electricity twice, and he feared the water was next.
Electricity was easy- steal some supplies to build a turbine and some solar panels, jerryrig them to the generator, and wait. But Nygma could NOT function without clean water. He needed to stay hygienic, neat, tidy. He couldn’t think without a clean space. It was maddening. Too much muck and clutter made his mind go into frenzy. His bedroom, his kitchen, the rest of the world? Could remain disastrously messy for all he cared. But the Riddle Factory would be clean, God Dammit. No, no, he had to find a workaround.
Thus, his latest masterpiece- a self-cycle water purifier that could convert the lair’s sewer tank into a steady clean water supply. The Riddler tore open a pack of wet wipes, gently cleaning the grease from his hands. Each finger was meticulously scrubbed until his pale hands shone.
His hands were gentle, tediously examining the finished product. Power input, filter tank, hydraulic pump- each piece an interconnecting segment of the greater puzzle. He loved this kind of work, the meticulous creation of a whole. Edward had loved the process of creation with a fever pitch. It was his domain, his safe haven. He was so truly consumed by it, in fact, that many had theorized the man to be Autistic. It wouldn't surprise him if he was neurodiverse in some aspect. History's greatest minds often were. Why should Edward Nygma be any different, hm?
Tenderly, Nygma patted the top of the machine as if he were encouraging a small child. It was perfect.
“Tell me, Artie. This old one runs forever, but never moves at all. He has not lungs nor throat, but still a mighty roaring call.” The old inventor tossed his wet wipe into the trash, grabbing a fresh one to wipe the oil and grease from his face.
He turned to face his henchman with delight. “What am I?”
“A.. A waterway, sir?” The young redhead smirked, guessing as best she could. Hands in her pockets, Artie began to shift her weight about.
“Right on the money, Artie. That’s why you’re my favorite. Get the boys to install this- I’m going to buy lunch.” Riddles were a part of the job. It seemed to be the modus operandi around here- keep the mind sharp with lateral thinking puzzles, and the rest will follow suit. And Eddie’s minions were up to the task.
Query and Echo, the girls at the top, worked hard to keep the rest of the crew stimulated. Standing and stretching his legs, the Riddler began to move about. His bones cracked and crunched with every twist, leaving a delighted smile on his face. Gently punching his hench on the shoulder, Ed grabbed his blazer, slung it around his shoulders, and twirled with a flourish. “Be back in an hour. Don’t let Echo set anything on fire, alright kid?” He winked, taking up his cane and tapping it against the wrought iron floors.
“Sure thing, Boss! Don’t get snagged by the Bat!”