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My eyes snap open. I can feel it, feel the sting of the needle lingering on my arm. Something's in me. Jonathan was in front of me, but now I see my father. This isn't real, it can't be, I killed him, right? Where am I? I start mumbling under my breath, "What's black and white and red all over? A newspaper. What's born hundreds of times every day and dies when it is known? A lie." I keep mumbling. I can't lose myself. I am Edward Nygma, the Riddler, I am the Riddler, I am Edward Nashton and I've done something wrong, I don't know what, I don't know anything, I am a moron - "you need me on the fairway and you need me for luck but when you have me you're well and truly fucked, I'm a stroke," I have to keep the riddles, I need them, I need them, maybe they'll stop his hand from hitting me, hurting me, it won't stop, I deserve this, he's right, moron, moron, moron, I stumble and fall, fall, fall, into the jaws of a monster, and Father is with me, he always is, not even death is an escape, hitting me hitting me hitting me IT'S NOT REAL! IT'S NOT REAL! I NEED THE RIDDLES! I HAVE TO THINK! I can't think, I can't, I'm useless, Father and I am in Arkham, where the Batman's piecing gaze stares at me - the same as my father - he hates me. He is better than me. I will never be his superior. After all, he can pull through fear gas, yet I am FORGETTING THAT IT'S NOT REAL! I can't think of a riddle - start off simple. What comes up white and comes down yellow and white? An egg. See? I can do this, I'm the Riddler, I'm a genius, I'm... greater than God, more evil than the devil, poor men have it, rich men need it, I'm nothing, nothing, he still wants to hurt me - "BATMAN! HELP ME!" I scream, but his stare is cold, and he laughs, like the Joker, but a cruel laugh, he encourages Father, my face is slammed against the bars, I'm on the ground, it's wet - blood? What's at the start and end of everyone, the start of eternity? e death, e Death, I will die, the Riddler dies today, could I ever call it living? Is this truly a life? I'm a moron. I could never beat the Bat, Father yells at me, saying crying isn't manly, I'm a moron, moron, moron, moron, moron, moron, moron, moron...
I'm awake. Everything hurts, the tears sting my eyes, and I'm strapped to the hospital bed. A wave of calm spreads through me; there's a tube that must be pumping the antidote into me. It's over. I can't help but sob. It's over.