"Th-then let's try another! I live in the cracks in the walls, yet hang my key at every passerby's waist. I never speak, yet teach every dog on the street to be silent. The rich bar me with iron gates; saints feed me with alms. I am a scale without a counterweight, with dignity on one side and grains of rice on the other..."
"Poverty."
The Riddler's smile vanished completely, replaced by a blank stare and a silence that seemed to last a century.
"Why you? Why not Batman... Why did you have to join this game... Why did you have to ruin my plan... I thought only he could understand my existence. Why did it have to be you..."
Utterly defeated, Edward Nygma squirmed and collapsed onto the couch.
What drove him to despair was not that someone had solved his riddles, but that someone other than Batman had solved them.
Until then, he had been certain that only Bruce Wayne could understand him.
Only Bruce Wayne could resonate with him in mind and soul.
And only Bruce Wayne and he possessed the power to save Gotham.
"I don't believe it... One more..."
"You still won't give up, Edward Nygma?"
Batman's voice made the Riddler raise his head.
Batman removed his mask.
His sweat-soaked short hair clung to his forehead. Those deep eyes, burning with anger, reminded the Riddler of their encounter years ago.
"You once told me that only the people of Gotham could save Gotham. I've always remembered those words."
Bruce had no recollection of this whatsoever. As far as he remembered, Edward Nygma was merely an employee, and he had never had any such profound conversation with him.
"You imagined that."
"No, it was absolutely not a hallucination... Of course, it's perfectly normal that you've forgotten