Nash had a rough childhood, just like the rest, but his was much closer. He grew up in extreme poverty. After his father drove his mother to suicide, Nash spent from about eleven to sixteen suffering from chronic malnutrition, leaving his smaller and weaker than he should have been. His father's abuse, physical, verbal, and sexual, increased during this time, up until his death early in Nash's sixteenth year.
After this, Nash discovers and makes a pact with a supernatural entity, the Anthropomorphic Personification of Lust. Things start looking up for a while. Nash puts all of his old life behind him, and starts moving forward.
Old scars remain. Nash suffered from an eating disorder, brought on by long years of semi-starvation, was both paranoid and delusional, and has a complicated relationship to touch. Nash has a hard time maintaining strong emotions, did not make friends easily, and found it difficult to make connections among his peer group. He is extremely self centered; a leftover survival instinct. He speaks tactlessly, and has problems with authority. Nash was often apathetic towards the suffering of others, but had a developed, yet twisted sense of justice. He often found himself using the people around him, Lusts influence making manipulating people much easier.
Nowadays, Nash is much better. He's put on weight and height, but doesn't bother much with muscle. He's often found at marches, sit-ins, and especially riots. He's a familiar presence in the local queer, disabled, and punk communities, and has gathered something of a cult of personality around himself, to the point that he is never lacking for a place to sleep. Nash embraces the transient lifestyle, and never stays in one place for very long. He still uses people, but doesn't usually leave them worse off. He knows how to wash the damn dishes.
Nash gave up being the Riddler long ago, and no one important ever figured out it was him. He knows the Bat knows, but just figures he doesn't care as long as Nash behaves.
The cane has become a necessary mobility aid, rather than a weapon. Lingering effects from malnutrition during the onset of puberty has left Nash with a weakened heart and lungs, and abnormal bone growth, mostly in the pelvis and femurs. Nash can no longer run very far, but the powers granted to him as a Host of Lust make up for that, he feels.
Nash knows that, when he eventually dies, he will become a demon in Lusts circle of Hell, but isn't really bothered by this. He is looking forward to torturing his father's spirit forever.
Warning! Bit of nasty language. Also, this is a long one.
@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions
Song: Don't Let Me Get Me-P!ink
The alcohol both numbed and lifted him, blending with the thrumming music to create a fizzy, dizzying sensation in his head. The dance floor spun along with him, the lights a spangling rainbow in the dark. A writhing human ocean of bodies and hands pressing against him, a hundred clashing perfumes and colognes rising to the ceiling, buoyed on a cloud of sweat.
Swag loved this feeling.
Usually.
Tonight, the dizziness wasn't a release, it was just disorientation, and he wobbled across the dance floor, to wind his way upstairs. On his way there, he somehow latched arms with a few people, who ended up in his room with him, but he didn't have any complaints. And he made sure they didn't either.
When he dragged himself out of bed in the morning-well, midmorning-well, noon actually-only two of them were still there. He hoped the others hadn't fucked with any of his stuff on their way out, but his reputation still held on enough that most people didn't.
He was well aware that a lot of the people who found their way into his bed were in it for the thrill of who he'd used to be. The challenge, the bragging rights, the curiosity. Whatever. He didn't mind; he got to have a good time too, after all. Most of them didn't stick around for long afterward though.
These two, however, seemed to at least want breakfast.
“So big boy, you as good in the kitchen as you are in the sheets?” one asked.
His laugh was rough with sleep and residual alcohol.
“Unfortunately, no. I put all my extra points into my hips, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, I do. That's okay, I can throw us something together. How d'you like your eggs?”
“Scramb-” he began, cutting off as he noticed her face fade from flirty, to frightened.
“What the fuck is that?” she whispered, pointing to one corner of his bedroom.
An anomalous form hunched there, pale gray and shifting, just barely humanoid. One of those damn wizard aliens! He didn't have much patience for these things.
“i'm curious about you”
Its voice slithered into his mind, nothing more than a whispered breath, as lacking in detail as its blank face.
“The feeling ain't mutual. Now scram!”
“Is it talking to you?” the other one asked, both partners taking shelter behind him. He glanced back.
“Hey, don't worry, okay? It's weird, but it'll be all right. Hey, you're freaking out my guests! Beat it!”
“i'm curious about how you were once one way but are now another way
how is that
humans can't really change so how are you doing it”
“Man, it's a long story, and I don't really feel like telling you. I just decided to, okay?”
“just decided to act differently and dress differently and be different
what part of it allows you to be different”
“The indomitable human spirit and my slammin' fashion sense. Go away.”
“ah your 'swag' as you humans put it
what a quaint concept
all that garish color and pointless detail
what if you didn't have that”
“Then I'd be naked.” Swag sneered. “Well...more naked.”
“then I expunge your 'swag' and all it entails
i want to see what will happen”
“Bro, that is so fuckin' stu-”
Magic flipped him inside out like a photo negative, a spool winding backwards. A spurt of malevolence splashed though his veins, making his fluffy bathrobe uncomfortably hot. He tore it from his thin form, and dropped it on the ground. Everything in the room felt wrong. Stifling. Everything was so...so fuzzy and soft, so clogged with dust, the perfect home for mites and allergens, and who knew what other kinds of potential pests and infestations?
It wasn't just the clothes. It wasn't just the clothes that made him who he was, it was the attitude, the demeanor, the coping mechanism he used to direct his mind away from its old paths. The Gray had lumped everything under the umbrella term of 'swag' and snatched it all away.
And who was he without that?
He knew. Unfortunately, he knew.
His sideburns itched, unnecessary, extraneous growths that served no purpose but to gather dirt. Everything was dirty; when was the last time anything in here had been cleaned?
“Eddie? Baby, are you okay?” One of the strangers placed their hand on his arm. He shoved them away immediately.
“Don't touch me!” he shouted, eyes wild. “You're filthy! All of you are covered in disease! Don't-”
They recoiled in fear.
“Fuck. Sorry. S-sorry, I didn't mean that.” he stammered, battling back a flood of anger and disgust. “Sorry, just...just don't touch me. You should...you should probably leave.”
“What happened?” the other asked, reaching out. “Do you need help?”
“Get out!”
He shoved them again, and this time, he didn't feel nearly as sorry.
They ran from him, but it didn't matter.
He needed to go check his cameras.
?~?~?~?~?
Something was wrong. Something was wrong.
It scuttled up the back of Detective's scalp, ruffling hairs along the way.
Something was wrong.
They hurried into their study, snatching up a small velvet bag along the way. Seating themselves at their antique leathertop desk, they lit a candle. They stared into the little flame, breathing deeply to push back against rising panic.
Once they had regained control, they opened the velvet bag, removing an ornate tarot deck.
What was the universe trying to tell them? They asked the cards while shuffling, slipping out three, and spreading them out on the desk.
The Five of Cups. The Tower. And off to the side, Temperance, reversed.
Regret. Failure. Terrible upheaval. And...
Swag.
They had to go find Swag. Something was wrong.
The world of the Question Mark shimmered at the edge of their vision. Swag. And danger. A faraway figure out on the horizon.
By the time they realized they were walking, their feet had already taken them to his doorstep.
Inside, everything was quiet and still. Detective heard muffled voices, and followed them to their source.
Swag perched on a chair in the kitchen, sketching on a roll a paper spread over the table.
“Crushing is always such a fun possibility.” Arkham's voice floated, tinny and harsh, from Swag's phone. “The walls closing in, just slowly enough that the victim can see what is going to happen, and panic at their own helplessness. The desperation. The inevitable ending. Such a good time. Well, when you're on the outside anyway. I have some of the parts you might need, if you feel like swinging by.”
“Hm. Not a bad suggestion.” Swag said. “But you'll forgive me if I don't jump at the opportunity to make myself vulnerable in somebody else's lair.”
“Will I?” Arkham said. “I suppose I will. Just this once.”
“Poisoning, perhaps.” Swag mused. “Something slow-acting. Pose the riddle and watch their terror grow as they begin to drop on the dance floor. If someone solves it, they get the antidote, but only the one who answered. Make it competitive.”
“Desperation and selfishness. A delight. But I thought you wanted blood?”
“Perhaps more metaphorically than literally, but I certainly wouldn't mind. Actually, there's enough space in here that I could put together a whole gauntlet without much trouble. I think I'll do that.”
“Swag?” Detective asked, worried. This kind of talk was...uncomfortable.
Swag held his hand up in a silencing gesture.
“How do you keep an idiot waiting?” he mumbled.
“What was that?” Arkham asked.
“Nothing to worry about. An interruption has arrived. I'll see to it.”
“Shall I call back?” Arkham offered.
“I think not. It's not that your company is unpleasant or anything, it's just that I know you're trying to distract me, and I'm not inclined to let you continue. Clever attempt though. I'm sure we'll cross paths later.”
Better hope not.” Arkham said, and they both laughed. Swag hung up the phone.
“I'll tell you later.” he finished the riddle, a drawl of challenge in his rolling tone. “So. You.”
“I can't help but feel as though you are on the edge of doing something you might later regret.”
“Something you might regret perhaps, but I'm feeling better than ever.” Swag asserted, holding his arms out wide. His eyes held no happiness that they could detect, just a manic sort of fervor. “I'm leaving behind all of my guilt and anxiety, ditching the false face. I'm letting that moron die and rising back up from the ashes. Call it an act of self care.”
“I shan't.” Detective said. “The Swag I know-”
Swag slammed his fist down on the table. Detective flinched.
“You never knew me.” he growled. “All you knew was a mask. A fucking jester. A coping mechanism that rose as a defense to too much thinking. He was, by nature and by design, my lesser.”
“He is loved.” Detective insisted. “What has brought this on? If you were truly so dissatisfied with things, why not speak with us about it? It's terrible to see you like this.”
“You will learn to like it!” Swag snapped. “Just like everyone else. Honestly, you act like I've killed somebody's best friend...which I have. Just not today. Not yet.”
“I will not allow-”
“It isn't your choice.” Swag cut them off. “Really, this infatuation of yours is pointless. Don't mourn that disgrace, Detective, welcome his restored superior! And also, leave. I have work to do.”
“Swag-” Detective stepped forward, stopping abruptly as the tip of Swags pen came up beneath their chin.
“Think you can take me?” Swag asked. “You aren't armed, are you? You don't bring weapons here. Swag's not dangerous, after all.”
Detective backed away.
“I shall take my leave.” they said.
?~?~?~?~?
No answer.
“Maybe he didn't hear?” Narci suggested.
“He'd better not be 'occupied'.” Puzzles grumbled, typing into his phone. “He knows we were coming, and I am not playing second fiddle to some floozie.”
He rang the doorbell several more times.
“Come on you strutting voluptuary, don't you dare leave us waiting.”
The door slammed open. Narci jumped. A stranger shoved his head out.
“What do you fucks want?” He snapped.
It was Swag, Puzzles realized with a shock. Clean-shaven and divested of his jewelry, hair slicked back under an olive green bowler. He glared coldly at them, and Narci shifted uncomfortably.
“You, uh, you were going to show me how to rewire an intercom system?” Narci said quietly, staring.
Swag sneered.
“Too stupid to figure it out on your own?”
“No!” Narci protested. “Of course not! You just said you were going to show us some tricks.”
Swag scoffed. He was actually in a suit for once, and...carrying a cane?
Something felt wrong here. Swag wasn't just in a bad mood. He felt different somehow.
“All right, spill it. Something's wrong with you.”
“How about you go fuck yourself.” Swag growled.
“How about I don't, and you tell me what's going on?” Puzzles shot back. “What's happened to you?”
“Nothing that needs to concern you. I had a change of heart, nothing more. I'm just trying to get something done, and I am out of patience with these interruptions.”
“What are you trying to do?” Narci asked.
“None of your business. Let's just say that Gotham needs a reminder. They've grown too complacent in my absence. I've been far too frivolous. Well, I mean to remedy that mistake.”
“Wait!” Narci cut in. “I could help you! If you could use another great mind, another pair of hands. We could punish this city together!”
Puzzles glanced aside. Narci had that weird look in his eyes again. The kid just got like that sometimes, like a curious dog, he just wanted to be involved in everything. Puzzles was vaguely aware of his isolated childhood, but there was a time and a place, and this definitely wasn't it.
But Swag-well, not Swag exactly right now, more like Less Swag, Opposite Swag, UnSwag-laughed mockingly.
“You? The constant failure? You're worthless. You don't have the respect of a single member of this wankfest of a Family, and you're going to help me? More like you need me to help you look better. Get lost you over-inflated fuck suit. You too, Autism Speaks, shove off before I bury you both.”
Puzzle's lip curled as Narci drew back, obviously hurt.
“No wonder you wanted to be anything other than this. You're insufferable.”
“Oh no, the twerp doesn't like me, how will I go on with my life? Go cry to mama, and get out of my parking lot.”
The UnSwag waved his cane threateningly at them. Puzzles eyed it cautiously. A Riddler's cane could be a dangerous thing; Puzzles own had a battery powered taser just under the question mark curl, a fear toxin dart in the bottom, and a short blade that could flick out of the side. Swag's preferred arsenal while he was a Riddler was a mystery to the Family.
“Perhaps a calculated retreat is in order.” Puzzles said quietly.
“He didn't have to say it like that.” Narci muttered, but he followed Puzzles away without arguing. “That's not...That's not actually true. I don't always fail. I'm not worthless. That's not true.”
“I'm sure you'll become capable eventually if you just keep at it.” Puzzles said, ignoring the betrayed glance the boy shot him. It was true. For the most part. Not many among them genuinely liked Narci, mostly just tolerating his antics for Nash's sake. Narci did have a lot left to prove, and whining about it wouldn't fix the problem. “More importantly; what's gotten into him? He has never acted that way since I've known him. We've argued before, and I know he is capable of being unreasonable, but I've never felt actually threatened before.” Puzzles mused, Narci sulking alongside him.
“Maybe he's just had enough.” Narci grumbled. “It could happen to anyone. Even m-even him.”
“Enough of what? The man is a bottomless pit of hedonistic debauchery.”
“But he wasn't always like that, was he? He was somehow else before...before all this. Maybe he got tired of people only thinking of him in one way. Maybe he needs to remind people what he's capable of.”
“Doesn't sound right.” Puzzles said dismissively. “But strange things do happen. We should probably let him be until this passes. Come on, we still need to talk about that sapphire heist.”
“I said I was sorry!” Narci groaned. “I just misunder...I just...”
“You were just wrong, and it cost us! Now come on!”
?~?~?~?~?
Nash spotted him near a wall panel tugging at a mess of wiring. This place was probably an electrical labyrinth, though maybe not quite as bad as the small lairs and foxholes Nash typically hid out in. Nash knew the Question Mark had once been an old warehouse; refurbishing those into hotspots for the night life was pretty common in Gotham, but Swag had really gone all out. On the inside, at least, it was impossible to tell what the building had once been.
Swag turned to look at him. Was he wearing a hat? That was odd.
Overlying his mind and perceptions, Lust hissed.
Nash stepped back, wary.
Swag smiled lightly, eyes sly.
“Good instincts.” he said. “But it took you just a little too long anyway.”
“Not from my perspective. Did we have plans? It doesn't matter, they'll have to be canceled, just like the rest. I find myself unexpectedly busy.”
This...this was wrong. Nash could still feel Lust bristling, able to sense things Nash couldn't, but he didn't need that to know something was terribly off here. Swags clothes...well they were always bright, eye-catching, stylish in a way that was either on the edge of going out of style, or just about to come back into style. Swag lived on the edges, shaped them and was shaped by them, but this green suit, that bowler hat, it was somehow lacking in the vibrancy Swag was known for.
And had he shaved???
Was this the same Swag, or yet another Riddler from another world? Nash knew Swag had been a Riddler, but not during the time Nash had known him. Not during the time any of them had known him.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Some kind of vague being came by and we had a talk. I came to the understanding that things were simply not working out the way I'd hoped. Oh well. I gave it a try, but I couldn't deny my destiny forever.”
“A vague... a Gray? Did a Gray do this to you?”
“A Gray? Can't I make my own mind up? Oh never mind, it doesn't matter. I have things to do.”
He didn't even sound like Swag. The easy-going affectation dropped entirely in favor of a mocking, almost angry tone.
“What are you planning?” Nash asked. He eyed the wires worming out of the panel.
“Grand re-opening tonight.” Not-Swag said. “This place will be filled with the most vapid, frivolous socialites middle class Gotham has to offer. How many of them do you think will make it out?”
A deathtrap. Swag was building a deathtrap. It was wrong. That wasn't what Swag did!
“Will Swag ever come back?”
Not-Swag rolled his eyes.
“He never left. I'm Swag. He's me! Ugh, why did I ever allow anyone to call me that? Fucking ridiculous. The disrespect I allowed...well that's over now. I'm him, he's me, we're the same person. I was always here, I was just wearing a different mask. Trying a different mode of being, but it didn't work. Too fragile a concept to build a life off of. Anxiety, pointless hedonism. No direction. No, I had already found what I was meant to be, no use in denying it any longer. It's time for a comeback. Now, why don't you come over here?”
Nash could feel Lust's denial, and he didn't feel very safe either. He backed up even farther.
“I think I'm gonna go...”
“Get over here, Nash. You won't have to do much. Just be tied to a chair so the others don't keep bothering me.”
“~The doorway over there~” Lust whispered in his mind. “~The worlds are thin there. I can get us through~”
“Come here, you fucking brat!” Not-Swag lunged for him.
“~Run for it!~” Lust screeched.
Nash threw himself blindly through the doorway-
-and stumbled into an entirely different building to sprawl, disoriented, on someones kitchen floor. He heard the patter of footsteps approaching and tried to climb to his feet. They were upon him before he knew it.
“Nash? When did you get here?”
“Oh, Nash! Are you all right?”
They helped him up, arms around his thin shoulders to stabilize him. Puzzles and Narci, their concerned faces hovering close to his. He was safe.
“Swag!” he gasped. “Something's wrong with him!”
Puzzles frowned, Narci's pale eyes slid away from Nash's face.
“We know.” Puzzles said. “We had an unfortunate encounter with him earlier. He was incredibly unpleasant.”
“Don't like seeing him this way.” Narci muttered. “Feels wrong.”
The three of them lapsed into an uncomfortably contemplative silence. They were the youngest of their group, just starting out on a journey that Swag had already ended. Narci and Nash were still figuring what the persona of the Riddler meant for them, and Puzzles only had a few years of experience under his belt. Swag was an odd outlier, but he was still a respected elder by now, at least in their youthful perspective.
And yet this thing that they all wanted so desperately to grow into, felt so wrong on Swag, who actually had once been that thing.
“It was a Gray.” Nash said. “He described it to me. He thinks he's made this decision himself, but it was one of those awful things.”
Puzzles sighed in irritation. “I suspected it might be something along those lines.”
“What's a Gray?” Narci asked.
“You haven't seen them?” Nash was surprised. He thought everyone had to deal with the mischievous creatures. Narci shook his head.
“Count yourself lucky.” Puzzles said. “They're some kind of magical being-yes, I know, but they are.” he insisted at Narci's disbelieving expression.
“They don't have any faces.” Nash explained. “They're all gray all over, and they kinda look like they're made out of slime or fog. They only barely look human. They talk inside your head. They're really creepy. They cast magic on you, like curses. They can make you do stupid things, or change your shape, or...practically anything! It's like they're playing pranks.”
“But they have been known to go too far.” Puzzles said bitterly. “Cause major problems for their own entertainment. Mostly they're just annoying, but they can be downright dangerous at times. The one saving grace is that their magic is nearly always temporary. This UnSwag has an expiration date. He'll go back to normal in a day or two. We'll just avoid him until then.”
“What about his customers?” Nash asked.
“What about them?” Puzzles said. “They can go a few nights without practicing their debauchery, I'm sure.”
“But he didn't close the club!” Nash exclaimed. “He's turning it into a deathtrap!”
Narci gasped. Puzzles stared at the ceiling with an irritated groan.
“Of course he is. This couldn't be easy, oh no, no, no. Instead, he has to go and do something that will get him tossed back in Arkham after the Gray magic wears off. This is why these creatures are so insidious, Narci. Their magic is temporary, but it can have long lasting consequences.”
“What do we do?” Narci asked. His feather light voice was laced with a fear Nash had never heard him express. He understood though. They could lose one of their number over this. One of their special Family. He and Narci didn't really have many people to turn to, and Narci had only recently been getting closer to the older members of the group. A few bad run-ins with Arkham had left him shy and demoralized.
But Swag had always been friendly. Always ready with another chance, even when Narci had been rude, or awkward, or-worst of all-wrong about something. He'd shown the same welcoming face to Puzzles and Nash too, even though Nash was technically too young to be allowed into the club during business hours, and Puzzles...well in the interest of being honest, Puzzles could get pretty rude about things too sometimes. Nash thought it must be a way of protecting himself. Even so, Swag still let him in.
“Well...We're Riddlers, aren't we?” Puzzles mused. “So, we stop him. Before he can kill anybody, and before any vigilantes show up. This is our business. We'll take care of it.”
Both boys nodded, dead serious.
“Okay. Narci, you go try to find YJ. I'll talk to Arkham. Nash, I want you to get Detec-”
“No need.” Detective's voice floated up from Puzzles left arm. “I'm already here~”
Puzzles shoved up his sleeve, revealing the tiny computer strapped there.
“Did you hack my Wrist Buddy?” he exclaimed, irritated and impressed.
“Never mind that. Do let me in. We have something to discuss.”
Grumbling, Puzzles typed a code into the tiny keyboard, and the front door unlocked. Detective entered without further preamble.
They were dressed for business, in a sleek green blazer over gray shirt and slacks, a green derby hiding their vermilion hair. They were even wearing their mask! Nash had never seen that before. They looked...dangerous. Not like the mothering figure Nash had grown to know, but like the debonair villain they had once been.
Narci stared with unabashed awe. Puzzles, on the other hand, crossed his arms and leaned against the counter.
“One would almost think you knew something in advance.” he said impudently.
“I did foresee something happening.” Detective replied.
“Oh, you foresaw it? How inconvenient that you didn't see fit to clue anybody else in!”
Nash squirmed. The Detective had visions. Claimed to have visions, anyway. And while Puzzles acknowledged the otherworldly beings that Nash was friends with, and the Grays with their magic, he did not entirely accept the Detectives oracular assertions.
“I didn't see exactly what it was. You know it doesn't work that way.”
“What a helpful ability.”
“Puzzles, we don't have time for this. Let's argue about it over tea some other time.”
“Yeah.” Narci said disapprovingly. “We have to help Swag. I'll go get YJ.”
“No, dears. I saw this too. YJ is too far away, and Arkham is too curious about the outcome to involve himself. He merely wishes to observe.”
“We'll see about that.” Puzzles typed speedily on his tiny wrist keyboard. “I'll contact him myself...Oh.”
The answer he got pulled his mouth into a frown. Detective cleared their throat.
“As I was saying, I saw something important pertaining to Swag. And then I spoke to him.”
“Odious, isn't he?” Puzzles said at Detective's disgruntled expression.
“Swag made an important decision about where to go with his life, and while it may be different that what you three would do, it was his choice. That has been taken from him, by force of magic, and that cannot be allowed. We make our own fates, and we must support each other in our decisions. We will not allow him to fall. So, suit up dear children. We're staging a coup~”
“How many times do I have to tell you I am not a child?” Puzzles complained, but Nash and Narci were already dashing back to their respective universes, to gear up.
Nash didn't have much; a mismatched thrift store Sunday suit, made for someone much younger than him. A shoplifted self defense keychain he could stab with. A miniature canister of pepper spray. He also had a lockpick that he hid in his department store trilby, and a very sharp hat pin, as well as a pocket knife, a portable usb drive with a deadly computer virus, a set of jewelers tools that he used on wiring, and one of YJ's smoke bombs. Nash tied his mask-just a strip of black cloth with holes cut out-around his head, and returned through the worlds, to Puzzles apartment.
Puzzles had taken the time to gear up as well, in his coveted kelly green suit and brilliant purple gloves. The colors smashed against each other, practically glowing at the edges. The classic bowler perched on his head and sleek mask always made him look older, and Nash knew he had some wicked weaponry hidden away.
Narci didn't have many places to hide things in his form-fitting, hand painted unitard and gymnasts shoes, but Narci carried few weapons or tools. He didn't need them; Narci was actually very strong, and could hold his own well in a fight, all of which was clear by merely a look at him in this getup. Any items he needed, he kept in a slender harness that girded his waist and thighs. He said it was to keep his freedom of movement, and Nash knew he'd been training as a gymnast ever since he could walk, but Nash couldn't help but bashfully notice how the harness accentuated certain of Narci's assets. In fact, the outfit put everything on display, and with his tight black curls, and slim, diamond shaped mask that hid very little of his face, it seemed like Narci wanted to be seen.
He practically posed; shoulders back and chest out, nose proudly in the air. He was only an inch taller than Nash, but seemed much bigger next to Nash's shrinking slouch.
“Have we got everything we need?” Detective asked. All three young men nodded. “All right. You have all been to the Question Mark before. Do you know the internal layout?”
“I've been inside.” Puzzles said. “I know how both floors are laid out.”
“Me too.” Nash added.
“I've only seen the first floor.” Narci admitted.
“All right. So here's what we'll do.”
?~?~?~?~?
The crowd outside the Question Mark was thick with people and irony; scattered among clubbers finery were people sporting Riddler costumes-the gallows humor of Gotham. Everyone knew who owned this nightclub, as Swag had not just not hidden the fact, but had actively banked on it.
Puzzles slipped unnoticed into the crowd, making his way up to the front where he immediately picked a fight with the bouncer. The others used the distraction to find a way into one of the areas few surveillance blind spots.
“Do you think you can do it?” Detective asked quietly. Narci scanned the wall carefully, taking in the texture of the bricks, the decorative façade, the bars on the windows, the height of the roof.
“Yes.” he said confidently, and began to climb. Nash watched him scramble up the building, taking out security cameras and motion sensors along the way. His job was to destroy as much of the security system as possible; especially the flood lights on the roof. They didn't move again until Narci had disappeared over the top, then they sneaked along, hugging the wall, until reaching nearly the back of the building.
This area was employees only, and fenced in with tall chain link. Nash was a Gotham youth, and scaled it easily, pausing at the barbed wire coiled at the top. His jeweler's tools included a wire cutter, and after a few tries, he was able to remove a length of the barbed wire wide enough for him to pass through. Back on the asphalt, he began working on the lock. It was good quality, but nothing Nash couldn't pick. Swag was protecting against the basic Gotham punks, after all, not other Riddlers.
In the meantime, Detective had set down their briefcase and opened it, lifting out a honed woodcutter's ax, with a handle wrapped in blue leather.
“It's one of Jervis's.” They said at Nash's stare. “He insisted I bring it with me. It may prove useful after all.”
The lock clicked in Nash's hand, and he tossed it over his shoulder, letting the Detective breeze through the gate. It sucked they had to cause all this damage, but it was better than letting Swag get dragged off to jail just because some Gray thought it'd be funny.
Detective began examining the power meter, but Nash noticed movement and pulled them back around the corner. The two peeked around to see a pair of very tough looking women approach the employees entrance.
“Oh dear.” Detective whispered. “This could be bad. I've seen those two before; they're this worlds Query and Echo. Rotten luck that they'd be here tonight.”
“I'll distract them.” Nash volunteered. Detective grabbed his arm.
“You mustn't try to fight them.” they insisted. “They are very dangerous!”
“I won't.” Nash said. “Just trust me, okay?”
Detectives lips thinned out, but they let go.
Nash stuck his hands in his pockets, let his head droop and walked into the employee parking lot, kicking at a rock.
The women paused. He let just a little bit of his secret power seep out, a supernatural drug that mentally disarmed anyone who looked at him. These two would see whatever it was that would make them most sympathetic towards him.
“Hey, either of you two got two dollars I can borrow?”
“What's the matter kid?” one asked. “Fake ID didn't work out?”
“Yeah.” Nash said sullenly, petulance seeping out of his demeanor. “And my ride says she's gonna stay anyway, and I don't have any bus fare. Can't call my mom to come pick me up; I'd be grounded for a month.”
He'd slowly made his way over to them, acting exactly like a defeated teenager, and both women smiled condescendingly.
“Ha. It was a nice try kid. Here, take this and come back in a few years.”
Nash was just reaching out to take the money, mind whirring on how to continue the distraction, when the floodlights went out.
“What the fu-”
Nash whipped his hand out of his pocket and threw YJ's smoke bomb to the ground. It exploded into a miasma of choking green. Behind him, the sound of metal striking brick as Detective took the chance to shear the meter clean off the wall. The rest of the external lights went dark.
Beside him, something dropped into the cloud of smoke, landing on one of the searching women with a heavy thud. Nash flinched and threw himself through the employee entrance, hoping Narci hadn't killed her with the impact.
He skidded down the hall, hugging the walls, as the sounds of fighting faded behind him. The area was bathed in eerie green, the emergency lighting casting deep shadows.
“Lust, help me hide.” Nash whispered.
“~Of course. Relax yourself and let me embrace you~”
Nash concentrated on relaxing his body through the tickling sensation of Lusts hundreds of amorphous tendrils breaching his skin. They wrapped tightly around every inch of his body, covering him in a smoky bodysuit of shifting shadows.
Now camouflaged, he slinked down the hall and up the stairs, not entering the dance floor. He was sure it was trapped, waiting for hapless revelers to meet their makers. Maybe they deserved it, maybe they didn't; Nash didn't care about that very much, but he knew that Swag would.
He crept along the second story, the darkness itself seeming to muffle his steps. A door banged open, and Nash threw himself into the bedroom doorway, heart in his throat. UnSwag stalked by and down the stairs, grumbling angrily about the power.
Nash skittered into the newly vacated room before the door shut. It was full of darkened screens and neatly lined computer towers, their whirring hum silenced.
Swag had backup generators. Of course he would. He must have. And that's where UnSwag had to be heading. Nash readied his usb drive. The screens flickered back to life, and Nash jammed the usb in. He might only have a few moments.
Fingers flying he unleashed the malevolent little worm of code, then slipped back out into the now worryingly lit hallway. Down the stairs, towards the exit-
Snatched off his feet, and slammed headfirst into the wall. Lust took the edge off the blow, but it still rattled Nash's brain. UnSwag twisted his arm behind him, held him by his hair, and dragged him out onto the dance floor.
“Hey guys! You looking for this? You fucking looking for this?” He shook Nash hard, who squealed under the pressure on his arm. Narci, Puzzles, and the Detective all turned from their positions creeping along the walls in search of traps.
“Lust!” he hissed through gritted teeth.
“~If I do it, he will be harmed! Perhaps permanently~” the demon whispered from within him. “~I can get you free, but he might not recover~”
“Hold off then. We didn't come to kill him.”
“Stop mumbling, brat.” UnSwag growled in his ear. “Whatever code you're trying to use, it won't work. They won't do a thing while I have you. Isn't that right?”
Detective held their hands up, palms empty. Jervis's hatchet was nowhere to be seen.
“Please. There is no need to endanger the boy.” they said gently.
“He endangered himself. He didn't have to throw in with you and invade my home, but he did. He made his own choice. There are consequences for that.”
“Look, we're not trying to hurt you or anything.” Puzzles said. “We're just trying to save you from regrets.”
“Who asked you?”
“You would have, if you were in your right mind. But you are being controlled right now, by one of those gray beings-”
“Puzzles!”
“Wrong answer!” UnSwag snarled, and flung Nash out onto the trapped floor.
The others began shouting. Nash hit a pressure plate, heard it click.
Nothing.
“What.” UnSwag said. Nash rose from the floor, grinning like the devil.
“Oops.” he said. “I think I broke it. Sorry.”
UnSwag shoved his hand into his jacket. Whatever he was reaching for, he never made it. Narci hit him with freight train force, and he went down instantly. Nash winced. Narci never did pull his punches.
The acrobatic Riddler swiftly had UnSwag tied with a cord from his harness. He immediately started wiggling free, so Narci perched on his back and held him down.
“Wow. One punch.” Puzzles sneered. “You are going to be so embarrassed when you wake up.”
“I am already awake!” UnSwag insisted. “Why don't any of you see? It was all just a pipe dream! It was never real. This is who I have always been.”
“Then why is this temporary?” Puzzles asked. “Why did you have to be pushed back into it by force? You know it's temporary, don't you?”
“It doesn't matter! I am who I'll always be! No matter what mask he puts on, I'll still be here. He'll never be rid of me. And what does it matter to you anyway? Why would you go so far to stop me?”
“We are rather fond of our dear Swag~” Detective said. “And we respect the decisions he has made.”
“Why do you like me that way so much? I've made an imbecile of myself, and I'm only trying to rectify that. You three! Isn't this the life you've chosen? And you! You might have retired, but you didn't put your brain on the shelf! All I do as your precious 'Swag', is waste my time with harlots and drink to oblivion. I hate him as me. It was a mistake.”
“You don't see the value in your own choices?” Detective asked. “You've put in so much effort. Do you see what you've built? The people still dance to your tune, it's just more literal this time.”
“Don't fucking start. That shit might work on these fetuses, but not-”
Narci stroked his hair gently, and UnSwag shuddered.
“Don't touch me!”
“Swag is perfect.” Narci asserted. “In a different way from us, yes. But you are wonderful like that.”
“Bullshit. None of us actually get along.” he jutted his chin towards Puzzles. “That little bitch hates everyone. The brat over there can't be trusted. And you...” he bucked, trying to throw Narci off. “Even as that frivolous idiot, I still don't respect you. No one does.”
Narci sighed, and stroked his hair once more.
“I know. But you tolerate me, and that's important too. In time, I'll earn the rest of it. I know how to work hard to become something great. That's why I can't stand to see you like this. All that effort, taken away.”
UnSwag groaned in annoyance.
“So what about the rest of you? Any more pithy speeches before I fade back into featherbrained worthlessness?”
“Two to midnight.” Puzzles said, checking his wrist computer.
“Nothing to say.” Nash added.
“Now we simply wait.” Detective finished.
“Fine.” UnSwag said. “If that's the official consensus. Just know that if this ever happens again, you're all on the list. So nobody better ever bring me back.”
“It'll be okay.” Narci said, stroking his hair one last time. “It'll be over soon.”
“Don't touch me.” UnSwag repeated. “Just...let me sleep, I guess.”
Instead of looming over their defeated foe, Detective, Puzzles, and Nash gathered to sit on the floor next to Narci and UnSwag. He lay quietly, as they all waited together for the last moments of the past to trickle away.
Puzzles wrist computer beeped. Everyone held their breath. If they were right about the temporary nature of Gray magic...
“Hey Narci? You're a handsome young man and' all, but would you mind getting the fuck off? Kinda crushin' my ribcage here.”
Narci hopped off his back immediately. Nash reached out for the rope binding him.
“Wait!” Detective commanded. “Relief cannot be allowed to overcome caution. If you would all be so kind as to move away...”
The young Riddlers drew back.
Detective knelt next to their captive and raised him up by the shoulders. Looked into the clean shaven face, the deep blue eyes, and kissed him, long and deep.
Narci gasped, but Nash knew they were like that sometimes.
“Disgusting.” Puzzles muttered. But when they parted, Swag was smiling.
“Hell of a welcome home. Got any more for me? I'm already all tied up, after all. But we probably better send the kiddies home first.”
“It's him.” Puzzles said flatly.
Nash and Narci cheered.
They untied him, checked him for injuries-Narci had hit him pretty hard after all. Narci apologized endlessly, but Swag waved it off.
“Not like I didn't earn it.”
“Um, can you apologize to the ladies for me too? When they wake up, I mean.”
“N-Nina? And Deirdre? You took them out? By yourself?”
Narci stood straighter.
“Well, Nash dropped a smoke bomb, and I didn't really want to hurt them or anything...but yes. I did.”
Swag patted Narci on the shoulder.
“I'm impressed, kid. Now never ever do that again.”
The young Riddlers didn't stay long; technically it was illegal for Narci and Nash to be in the club during business hours, even if the Question Mark wouldn't be opening tonight. 'Electrical malfunction' they had told the disappointed crowd. But for a while after that, Detective stayed by Swag's side, comforting arm around his shoulders.
“You guys did right.” Swag said. “There's a reason I didn't want to be like that anymore. Like, yeah, that's me, and that's still swimming around inside me. Everything I did, and everything I thought and felt. That's entirely me. But this is also me. This is what I chose.” he stroked his chin. “Ugh, he shaved me. Damnit, that's gonna take weeks to grow back just right. And where are my earrings?”
He got up and began searching around for his jewelry.
“Swag.”
“Yeah?”
“If you are serious about letting go of the past...may I suggest that you actually let go?”
They gestured at the green suit Swag was still wearing. He plucked at the lapels.
“Yeah...guess I've grown out of it, huh. Doesn't fit quite right anymore. I don't know why I kept all this stuff. Contingency, I guess. But...I don't need it anymore. Tell ya what, I'll pack all this stuff up, the suit, the hat, the cane, all of that. And I'll... I dunno. Throw it in the bay. Donate it to a museum. Something like that.”
“I could help, if you like.”
“Nah...this is really somethin' I should do myself. 'Sides, you guys already helped me out plenty tonight. Guess this whole Family business is worth somethin' after all. If you can see me at my worst and still stick around...I dunno, it's giving 'hope for the future', you know?”
Detective stayed the night, just talking while Swag packed, bathed, rested. And though they did see that hope Swag spoke of peeking through as he chattered about future plans, they couldn't help but to let their mind drift to the mystery they knew hung on the horizon.
Is it really a happy ending if everyone had that bad of a time?
Song: Black Angels, Movt. 3 ‘Return’-George Crumb
Hey, uh CONTENT WARNING: Gore, body horror. I mean it!
@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions
I devour the dead
They as offerings send
And within me reside
Every enemy and friend
Families are gathered
Under teeth of stone
And though everyone is here
They all sleep alone
Was there any pain that stabbed so deep as loss? Was there any greater dread, any other incentive that would drive a person to the lengths that fear of loss did? Anything worse than facing the empty space caused by loss?
Puzzles was dead.
Brutally, messily murdered by some monstrous creature, a cannibalistic being possessed by a demonic entity, who had lost control of his ravening hunger. The public didn't know-it had been chalked up to a mysterious animal attack. In the middle of Gotham. It was somehow more believable.
It didn't matter. All the public knew, all she knew, was that he was dead. There was no room for anything else. The monster that took him from them had once been his friend. An extra layer of tragedy.
She had passed the soggy remnants of the past weeks parties on the way to the cemetery, sodden crepe paper and beer bottles. She'd hoped the revelry hadn't been in celebration of the Riddler's passing, but if she was being realistic...
Puzzles was a villain. He had worn the label with great pride. Surely, he had done things that had hurt people beyond mere financial disruption. Left marks on people's lives that would never heal. Most folks probably thought it was justice.
None of them would have seen the Detective, despondently planning a simple funeral, combing through schedules to make sure no one else would be in the cemetery at the time. None of them would have heard the keening wail of a person mourning as for their own child, and known it was time to leave.
Helix hadn't been invited, but she had come anyway. She'd only known Puzzles for a few weeks, but she had come anyway. Hidden up a tree behind the rows of folding chairs, watching people file slowly in. Watching Detective arrange and rearrange the flowers, Arkham, dark and somber approach but refrain from looking into the coffin. Jervis, the Detective's diminutive companion, in his most sober top hat. YJ, so still, so silent, all his bubbling energy damped within the confines of a plain black suit. Contrast that to the fretful fidgeting of a blonde man she hadn't yet met, and his stolid companion, a quiet fellow who seemed to have suffered a grievous injury to one side of his face.
There were others she was less familiar with: a pair of women who never strayed far from the Detective's side, a tall, thin, stretched out sort of man in an orange tie, a woman with a black bob, and a redhead with greenish skin. A vivacious woman in blonde pigtails with two-toned tips who tried to hug everyone-even Arkham- who let her, and a boy who hovered at the trunk of her tree, but thankfully, didn't look up.
There were no hymns and no prayers; these were not the kind of people to put faith in a hereafter. Detective offered up a poem, a Latin lament of mourning mother's love. The others all approached one by one, to leave little memories nestled beside the empty, waxen form which had once housed Family.
Helix had nothing to give. All she had in this moment was contemplation.
Edwin had never gotten this kind of closure; nor had any of the people of her lost universe. The mourning of five billion people was simply too large a task to put on the shoulders of one broken woman. She had never held any kind of memorial for them. It was just too big to fit inside her.
But looking down into the coffin, at the still face of a man who looked so much like him...would it have been like this?
No. Funerals in the commune had not been such melancholy affairs. They had simply been farewells. Sendoffs to the fields of Elysium, where they would all eventually reunite. The entire community would turn out in their best, dance and drink and revel in the name of the deceased one last time. Memorials were carved with flowers and birds, sheaves of wheat and fruits, rather than crosses and angels; the rejected trappings of a religion obsessed with death. They would be buried, and the whole cemetery cleaned and tidied, and everyone would go home and party. The bereaved family would be taken care of for as long as needed, because the community did not let each other fall.
These people would not party tonight. They had no community, only themselves, and the tiny tenuous Family they had created, now even smaller. They didn't know how to help each other through this. Tonight, they would each go home to their separate realities, alone, and so would she.
“-havve to do it quicklyyy. Beforre theyyy put himmm innn the grounnd.”
A garbled voice, little more than a deep burble from beneath her tree. Crouching next to the boy, a large figure in a voluminous coat and wide hood. She hadn't seen or heard it approach, but it smelled strongly of fell magic.
“But what is it?” the boy whispered. “You said you were going to do something to make it right. What did you do?”
“I maaade annn exchaannge.” the figure said, the words laboring to be free, as if fighting their way through a throat a hundred feet deep. “Gluttony isss sssso hungryyy allll of the tiiiiiime. Alll of the time. Ssso I oferrrred sssssomethiiiing that willll tide him overrrr forrrr a whille, and he wasss able to pulllll sssome ssssstringsssss and get meeee thisssss.”
“But what is it? What did you give?”
It paused.
“Onnnne for onnne. Thissss for meee.”
The boy gasped.
“You didn't! Mons, you can't do that!”
“It issss alreadyyyy donnne. It'ssss allll right. Myyyy time wasss comingggg to annn end anywayyy. I wasss loosing conntrol of it morrrre and morrrre. I've beennnn Glut'sss hosst for decadesss noww, and we hostsssss can onlyyy last ssso long. Rememberrrr that Nash. Your timme issss limited tooooo.”
“Lust won't hurt me.” the boy insisted.
“He won't meannnn too. But that'ssss the naturrrre of the beasssst. Ah, that'sssss the lasssst offff themmm. Coverrrr meee alright?”
The being scuttled up the aisle between chairs like a quadrupedal beast, clawed, elongated limbs flailing. The hood flipped back, revealing a thatch of matted black hair topping a pasty face. It's eyes were bright red points in round, dark sclera, its once human head split to the ears into a shark toothed maw.
Something was clenched in those teeth as it zipped past the mourners, knocking them back, raising startled cries, the boy following close behind. Once it reached the coffin, it spat the small object out, slapping it onto the dead mans chest before darting away.
“That's it!” Arkham bellowed, whipping a pistol free from his suit jacket. “That's the damned thing!”
He tried to aim, but the boy kept putting himself in the way. The thing, the creature that had killed Puzzles, slipped between antiquated stone crypts, and disappeared. Helix wanted to follow, to rend the thing into pieces, but...
The guests picked themselves back up, a few keeping watch for any other crashers, while Arkham scolded the boy severely, but Helix's attention was drawn to the object the monster had left. An intricate creation of wrapped wire, nuts and bolts of polished brass, set like stones in a jewel. The Detective regarded it quizzically, perhaps able to sense that it was an object of power, but Helix knew with nauseating intimacy exactly what that thing was. The one bit of Necromantic magic she had ever learned.
It was a Soul Jar.
It began to fizzle, burn, the bright silver and brass blackening until it blended in with his funerary suit, and the sickening sensation of Necrotic energy rolled out over the area like a vile miasma.
Everyone fell silent at what, to them, was a sudden disquieting sensation, though she and the Detective were nearly knocked off their feet by the actual power of it..
In the quiet, a small sound, repeating.
Fingernails scraping against satin lining.
Detective leaned close to the coffin, peering cautiously in, only to fall back with a shocked shout as Puzzles' arm whipped up like a puppet on lose strings, to scrape the mortuary caps from his milky eyes.
The ensouled corpse flopped, contorting into a sitting position amid the horrified cries of his friends and Family, and clawed at his mouth, chest convulsing.
Helix saw the problem. Her magic spooled out with scalpel precision, and cut the wire that held his jaw shut.
He opened his mouth for a few moments of wrenching, agonized scream, followed by gushing black liquid, and chunks of dark, decomposed lung. It poured down the front of his suit, splattering the white lining of the coffin. Gagging, choking on his own disintegrating organs, he leaned over the side of his coffin, trying to climb out. It succeeded only in toppling the entire box, sending Puzzles sprawling free, and several guests running, screaming from the hideous scene.
Puzzles dragged himself wretchedly across the ground, milkiness draining from his unfocused eyes in thick tears, straight into the Detective's trembling arms. They tried to support him as he pulled himself to his hands and knees, still retching up his own dead lungs, tugging weakly at his shirt.
Arkham knelt at his side, ripping the clothing open for him, revealing bloodless skin that was sloughing away in slippery chunks, a bulging evisceration wound, which burst open in a wet explosion of yellowed fluid, discolored organs, and stained cotton wadding. The stinking mess sloshed over Arkhams legs, soaking him nearly to the waist. Pushing out the slithering viscera were new organs, new ribs, new blood, all of which pulsed, and wobbled, and squelched, while new, living muscle and skin slowly grew to hold them in.
Utterly silent, tight lipped and pale as a ghost, Arkham continued to remove sodden clothes and rubbery flesh from Puzzles body, until he lay shivering, pink, and new, and alive in the Detective's lap. Finally, his lungs filled back in, and he began to wail his unrelenting horror into the air, like a babe having drawn its first breath.
YJ ran back from the headstone he'd hidden behind, stripping off his suit jacket and laying it over Puzzles shivering form.
“Can you hear us, Puzzles? Can you hear us?” he asked, lisp more pronounced in his quaking voice. “We're here. You're safe. We're here.”
The boy and the blonde approached but held distance, ready to run once more. Puzzles answered to nothing, screaming until he couldn't anymore, lapsing into hoarse gasps, emerald eyes wide and wild. They were pointed in her direction, but she didn't think he could really see her-or anything-right now.
The Detective however, also looked up, following his line of sight with their own peridot gaze. They might be able to see through the leaves to spot her, a cicada clinging to the trunk. They locked eyes, an understanding between them. In acquiescence to Detective's silent command, Helix dropped between the branches and fell out of the world.
A more difficult question than you might think. Gotham, as a part of the DCU is aware of the various supernatural and superhuman entities that exist within their universe, and the Riddlers would be aware of even more than the average person. What makes a god? What makes something worthy of worship? How does a culturally Christian society like America reconcile these entities?
The Riddlers each have thoughts about god or gods, but only Helix and Narci actually worship anything, like with prayer and ritual and offerings, the trappings of religion. The others? Well, this is the best I can really give you:
Arkham: Antitheist-If gods exist, they need to die.
Detective: Ietsism-They are part of reality, but there are parts of reality beyond them. There is an overarching, transcendent reality that they can occasionally see into. They believe the existence of the Nexus proves them right.
YJ: Agnostic-If there are gods, it doesn't matter. We are the ones that built the pyramids, we are the ones who invented writing, and we are the ones who impact each others lives. Worship yourself.
Swag/Unswag: Apatheistic Omnist-Yeah gods exist. Probably all of them. But they aren't worthy of us, honey.
Helix: Draconolotrix-Worships dragons. Especially a specific dragon, who is also a deity among dragonkind. She is technically also a priestess of this goddess, though her clerical powers are weak and very specific.
Puzzles: Staunch atheist, no matter what he sees or learns.
Narci: Syncretic polytheist-Xie worships Thoth, Hermaphroditus, and (somewhat ironically) Persephone, in her role as a goddess of death and rebirth.
Nash: Demonolotor-while he wouldn't claim to worship demons, he does consort, trade, barter, and deal with them very often. Since Lust is technically a minor deity(an elevated daimon), Nash also has minor clerical powers.
Firstly, he was complicated to me, because I could only find like three drawings of him, and none of them were consistent in their details. So I just put down the strongest impressions that came to my head, and am hoping that they fly.
Secondly, he was complicated as a character, in opposition with himself constantly. He was a malnourished, underweight child, still in school. He was a full blown Riddler, with hideouts and homemade deathtraps. He was weak-hearted, shy, easily frightened and he was deadly. He was extremely sexually repulsed, yet willingly became host to a demonic entity-the Personification of the Deadly Sin of Lust. This was actually a good thing for him. He was steeped in the supernatural, almost to the degree that Helix was, but never picked any of it up. From anons, to friends, to fanfic writers, to other Riddlers, nobody was normal about this kid. (The cheek scar came from another Riddler who was possibly the least normal about Nash.)
In the end, he reformed before he was old enough to drink, and, as far as anybody knows, disappeared soon after.
@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions I honestly don’t know if Nash’s mun is still around, but cheers to you!
Nash tries to figure something out. Everyone tries to help.
Warning: extremely minor character death
song: Salt in Our Wounds-HIM (Both versions because I can't decide which one I like better)
Warning: Nash is still underage and some sexual-ish things do happen in this fic. Certain non-consensual actions are implied here and there.
@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions @whocares-idont
“Huh.” Narci said, staring at the steaming corpse.
“Yeah.” Nash said, echoing his consternation.
“Kinda disappointing, honestly.”
“I expected him to last longer.” Nash approached, poking the body with his cane, to confirm its state of death. “Not to win, of course, but not to just die instantly either. Is the cube defective?”
He turned his cane on the puzzle cube, but it was inert.
“I'll have to take it apart and check. In the meantime, we need to get him to the harbor.”
It was easy to find enough junk to tie to the corpse in order to make him sink instantly under the waves, and it was no more polluting than anything else that went into the water around there. The dissatisfaction sat in Nash's stomach like a bad meal.
“Hey Narci, you...does it ever bother you? When they die?”
Narci draped an arm awkwardly over Nash's thin shoulders. Narci often acted like someone who had just been introduced to the concept of touch; like it was something that he wanted, but did not know how to do. In a way it reassured Nash; Narci obviously cared about him, if he was so willing to step outside of his comfort zone to offer Nash affection in a way unfamiliar to him. Nash was also unfamiliar with affectionate touch, but they would learn together.
“Sometimes.” Narci admitted. “Not really though? When I'm on a heist, I try to avoid people. If someone gets in my way, they're dead, and that's that. I can't afford to be seen most of the time, or Nightwing will be on my trail. No witnesses. When it comes to traps though...well, the spectacle is part of the point, isn't it? They aren't supposed to die fast, so it's disappointing if they do.”
“Yeah...Maybe?” Nash murmured, uncommitted. He wasn't so sure that was it. Well, that was partially it, but also...
Wasn't he supposed to feel something?
Wasn't there supposed to be horror? Regret? Wasn't there supposed to be satisfaction? Why did he still feel empty?
“Do you want to go get a snack?” Narci asked. Nash shook his head.
“No. I...I think I'd like to go to bed actually. This was all kinda tiring.”
“Oh. Well yeah, and you've got school still too, don't you? Are you still going?”
“Yeah. Keeps me in a warm place for most of the day, even if it does feel kinda pointless.”
“So you'll need your sleep. Just...just be careful okay? If you ever need me for anything at all, just say so. Nothing will get in my way.”
Puzzles helped him dismantle the cube, Nash examining every little part. A misaligned wire, a tiny mistake on his part, had cost a man his life. Nash was of the opinion that he probably would have died anyway, but the point was to at least give him a chance. Make him confront his inadequacy, come to understand where he went wrong. Nash was perfectly willing to free his targets if they performed adequately, it was just rare. But the chance was still there, it had to be. It had to be, or he was just another mundane murderer.
They were murderers, Nash knew and accepted this, even as some tiny part of him knew that very acceptance was concerning. They were murderers, but they were not mundane. They were not brutes, or madmen. They were principled. They all had their reasons, and Nash knew, if nothing was done about the state of his world, nothing would change. Things had gotten so bad...it would take something equally as extreme to even begin to address it.
Puzzles agreed with him.
“People at the top of the heap have no incentive to change their ways.” he pointed out. “That incentive needs to be forced on them. Look at every revolution ever. Kings and Tsars, colonizing states and business owners given chance after chance, plan after plan to make things better. And each time, they ignore, they imprison, they slaughter anyone who dares to suggest things aren't already perfect. Then they are so surprised when those changes become written in their own blood. It isn't wrong to fight back against what's trying to kill you. Even insects do that.”
“But...shouldn't I feel guilty?” Nash asked. “Even a little bit?”
“Maybe. Maybe if you hadn't seen the rot beneath the bricks, you would. There comes a time in everyone's life where they become disillusioned, it just happened early for you. That simply means you have that much more time to become what you want to be. Initial mistakes like this-” Puzzles held up the dismantled cube. “-can be ironed out early.”
He had a point. Maybe not feeling that guilt was a blessing, rather than an indicator that something was terribly wrong with him. He'd been filled with guilt since his mother had died; maybe he had reached capacity.
Puzzles offered him a meal and a bed for the night, and this time Nash took him up on the offer. He was tired, and though he couldn't finish the meal-not just because he couldn't eat much in one sitting, but also because Puzzles liked his food blisteringly spicy-the awkward and overly formal care Puzzles showed him filled the emptiness inside just a little.
Nash kept his head down at school the next day, diligently taking his notes, and doing his best not to get on anybodies nerves. The girl who had been noticing him kept stealing glances his way. Normally, he would have ignored her, but right now...
Did she suspect him? She'd been paying so much attention to him lately. What did she want?
She caught him after school, just as he was leaving. What was her name again? Amy? Yes, Amy.
“Eddie! Hi!” she called, her voice sounding falsely chipper. She definitely wanted something from him, and it put him on edge.
“Er, hi Amy. What...what is it?”
She frowned slightly, just for a moment.
“Annie. Anyway, I was thinking, I've gotten a bit behind in class, and I noticed, you're really smart. You always do really well on the tests. I'd love to know your secret.”
The clumsily sly tone on the last sentence. She did suspect him, didn't she? Accusing him of having a secret. How much did she know?
“Well, actually, I was wondering if you'd like to study together, say tonight?” she continued, looking up through her eyelashes at him. “We could maybe be really helpful to each other, you know?”
Oh. He understood now, what her intentions were, and nearly blushed at the audacity of it. No one had ever tried that with him before, though he supposed it wouldn't be the last time someone made the attempt.
“O-okay. Well...Meet me at around six?” He gave her the address and she hurried off to her extracurriculars, a lively spring in her step.
Nash hadn't expected anything like this to happen for a while yet, but it might be interesting. In the meantime, he had someone he needed to talk to.
“Hey Swag? How do I flirt?” Nash asked, lightly sipping a small glass of ginger ale. It was before business hours at the club, so he was allowed inside. Those were the rules.
His elder counterpart leaned against the bar, his face splitting into a charming, weathered smile.
“That's so cute. You're growing up.”
“Don't talk down to me.” Nash sulked. “ I just figured you're probably the best at flirting.”
Swag shrugged.
“Maybe not the best ever, but damn good enough. Well...at your age? I'd say just be yourself, but...”
“But I'd point out the hypocrisy immediately.” Swag put on an act around other people, and everyone knew it. It was part of the draw. But Nash couldn't do that, not yet.
“Nail on the head. Flirtin' ain't necessarily something that can be taught. It's not just a series of pickup lines, though that can work if you play it right. It's a bit more like exaggerating whatcha got. Playing to your strengths. Me, I like to gas up my looks, and maintain that delicate balance between bragging and humor. Keeps people on their toes, and they love it. You though...”
“I'm not very humorous.” Nash stated. He knew that already. There were class clowns, and there were charmingly witty people, and he was neither of those things. Too serious, too weak, too focused on whatever he was doing. He stretched his thin brown hands out in front of him, and placed them to his cheeks, the only part of him that retained any of the round softness of childhood. They would probably melt away soon too, just as the rest of his body had.
“Looks, huh? I don't have that going for me either.”
Not when compared to the others, the unearthly perfection of Detective, Puzzles and Narci's sculpted beauty, Arkham's rough masculinity, Swag and YJ's warm, mature handsomeness. He wasn't even done growing yet! He was short and ungainly, and far too thin. His eyes were sunken, his skin neither dark enough to be striking, nor pale enough to be conventional. And people didn't find intelligence attractive when it was in the wrong body, when it used words awkwardly, when it was shy and hostile, and wounded.
“Ehh, well. It's not so bad.” Swag interrupted his musings. “At the risk of sounding weird, you've got some good points. Nice smile, nice hair, beautiful eyes. You're prolly gonna grow up pretty handsome. You maybe won't knock 'em dead right now, but you've got potential. Anybody getting in on the ground floor now might be in for something good. Just be responsible, okay? You need any, uh, supplies, you can ask me, it's fine.”
Nash made a face.
“Yeah that does sound kinda weird.”
“I figured. Sorry little man, I'm still working on this big bro/weird uncle thing. So, it maybe depends more on what you want out of...whatever it is that's on your mind.”
“Well...something came up kinda suddenly, and I thought I might need help. But maybe I should just be myself. If somebody wants me, then I'm what they're gonna get, after all.”
“Not a bad philosophy.”
“And I'll have a gift for them too. Everyone likes gifts.”
“Sounds like a plan, little man. Good luck.”
Shadows surrounded Nash the instant he stepped inside, a whirlwind embrace of worried demon.
“~You didn't come back~” Lust exclaimed. “~You went out after that officer of yours, and you didn'tcome back! I remembered that these officers sometimes carry guns, and the human body is so fragile. You're not hurt are you? He did not hurt you~”
“No, I-I'm fine! He's dead, it's nothing. I just got caught up in what I was doing and crashed at Puzzle's place. And then I had school, and...you were really worried about me?”
“~Yes! Why wouldn't I be? Do I not know all the terrible things that can befall a mortal soul? And with no contact from you, how could I know you were safe~”
“No, I just-I mean...I didn't know you cared about me that much.”
The demon pulled back, eyes as blue and round as always.
“~Well. It looks as if I do. You and I, we have no one else in this world, do we? Currently, all our allies are in other realities, and are not always available. But the two of us have this domicile, and this shared space feels better with you in it.~”
“Oh. I...um...” he should say something, he thought, but the words clung to his tongue, refusing to be released.
A tentative knock at the back door saved him. He rested his hands on Lusts shadowy shoulders, stepping out of the demon's embrace.
“Wait here.” Nash said. “I've brought you a gift.”
Warning: Nash is still underage and some sexual-ish things do happen in this fic. Certain non-consensual actions are implied here and there.
Song: The Floor is Lava-Epic Mountain Music
@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions @whocares-idont
As the weeks ticked by, Nash built up his 'savings', sought out little foxholes to hide in and create his traps, and settled into the weird domesticity of living with a demon. Lust was quickly becoming a stable presence in his life, which made sense considering Nash had previously lived such a transient lifestyle, and never spoke anyone more than a few days in a row. Yet Lust was there almost all the time, and always told Nash if he would be gone. He cooked for Nash, even though Nash could never eat much, and often took his leftovers to Mons. He continued reading the demonology books, and Lust continued to take an interest in his schooling and especially his extracurricular activities.
Sometimes the two collided; there was a school resource officer who had been giving Nash trouble lately, and Nash had been building a trap especially for him. Nash knew he wouldn't pass the test, just as Nash knew he would not be missed. He wasn't the only kid on the officer's harassment list, and Nash felt certain that the other students would keep their mouths shut, even if they suspected him. By his calculations, their hatred for him was not as strong as their hatred for authority with a gun.
He had continued to play on his teacher's pity for his new orphaned status, and had even gained a few points with the principal, just for acting like a pathetic, lost little kid. That would be fewer detentions, as long as he kept the ruse up.
People were beginning to notice him more, though he didn't know why. He hadn't changed the way he dressed or acted, and he wasn't sure that his fellow students were looking out for him more because he'd lost his father, or if it was some other change. One girl had even told him he smelled nice. Why would she even say that? He wasn't even wearing any cologne or lotion, or anything!
He'd stolen some lotion from a corner store on the way home that afternoon.
All of these things delighted Lust, who wanted to know what he thought of the girl (nothing), what he got so many detentions for (speaking, mostly), and what kind of traps Nash made.
So he gave Lust one of his special Rubic's Cubes.
They were piecemeal contraptions, taken apart and recombined with sensors and taser parts, a little crude, but he was always improving.
“If you don't make any moves in within a certain time, it zaps you. If you try to tamper with the stickers, the sensors will pick it up and zap you. If you don't finish a row in a certain time, it zaps you. And the zaps get worse the longer it goes. I have a remote that I can use to control them, so I can make it worse if I want to, and start or pause the timer. I can also make them overload and self destruct.”
Lust plucked the little cube up in his long claws.
“~So it is a portable puzzle~”
“It's a toy.” Nash said. “They've been around since long before I was born; basically everybody knows what they are and what you're supposed to do with them. I've just improved that one so that it's more of a challenge.”
“~And you can solve it~”
“Of course!” he took the cube back from the demons claws. “Let me show you.”
Nash poked a button on his remote 'just to keep it fair', then his hands flew along the cube, a rainbow of spinning colors that swiftly resolved themselves into solid faces. He set the finished cube down well before the first electric pulse, and tapped the remote again.
“~That...was quite swift. So it is a color matching puzzle. I see. I think I could do that~” Lust mused.
“Go ahead and try.” Nash challenged, remixing the colors. Lust delicately took the cube and waited for Nash to start the timer. His deft movements were not fast enough, and Nash grinned as the demon yelped, nearly dropping the cube at the first zap.
“Not as easy as I make it look, is it?” Nash teased.
“~I merely need to get an initial grasp on where the colors are-ouch! Why~”
“No movement for too long. Gotta keep going.”
Lust continued, absorbing the increasing electrical charges, but not without complaint.
“~Ouch! Where is the last blue? Ow! I thought it was over here, why is it over there? Ouch! Why is this side solid, but this one mixed? How did that even happ-oww~”
Lust dropped the cube from stinging fingers, scowling at Nash's smug giggle.
“~Perhaps I am a touch rusty~” Lust admitted imperiously. “~Lofty Hellish plans tend towards greatercomplexity, after all~”
“Uh-huh. You got beat by human ingenuity, own up.”
“~So this is what you plan to do to your cowardly officer~” Lust asked.
“Maybe. I'm gathering info on the guy to see what the most fitting plan would be. I want him to really feel his inadequacy. He wouldn't be a school cop if he was actually worth anything. When all you're good for is bullying kids, you know there's either something nasty or utterly pathetic in your past. I'm gonna dig it up and rub his face in it.”
Tampering with evidence, petty theft, wrongful arrest, and soliciting sexual favors from a suspect in custody. Nash had been right: it was pathetic. The kind of shallow evils that apparently made someone the perfect authority for kids. Surely, nothing could go wrong there.
No, this one would definitely not be missed.
The police force had really been going through it these past couple of years. First the old commissioner had been indicted under massive corruption charges. Then' he'd put out a hit on the DA and the judge looking over his case. The DA survived, but had been horribly scarred, both inside and outside. A new name began trickling down the ranks of Gotham's organized crime rings. Even Nash, currently the pettiest of criminals had heard.
Two-Face was a damn stupid thing to call yourself, but Nash would bet all the bodies being dredged out of the harbor hadn't been laughing in the end. Especially not the old police commissioner.
The new one reminded Nash a bit of Mr. Rodgers in a kevlar jacket. He had all the seeming of a kindly old grandpa, but had dodged assassination attempts, ousted prominent cops who were also under investigation for corruption, and was even rumored to be working with Gotham's own urban legend: The Bat himself.
A lot of people thought the Bat really was just a legend; a huge bat that lived somewhere in the bristling, stony rooftops of Gotham. Nash knew though: Nash had seen him. Once. He was a man. Just a man in a costume, who had practically flown high over Nash's head, and away into the dark. It had given him an idea.
He also had the advantage of knowing that the Bat existed on other worlds, and could be outwitted, if necessary. Arkham still fought him regularly. Nash didn't really want to fight him though; he agreed with what the Bat was doing. He agreed with vengeance. He would join in soon.
His Riddler persona didn't need to be an enemy. The Bat could patrol the skies, and he could take the underground, make it into something productive.
And if they ever did end up on opposing sides, well, Nash had the combined experience of six other Riddlers behind him.
“~Vigilantes do tend to be romanticized, don't they~” Lust mused over it. “~There's a definite sexappeal in the mystery, the apparent altruism, the fantasy of justice~”
“I don't really care about that.” Nash said. “I'm just tired of it. Things need to change, and they aren't gonna change unless someone does it.”
“~Perhaps. Many were the hopes of those who beheaded the king. What happens if the next one is the same~”
Nash shrugged.
“He's got a neck too.”
“~Ah. Bloodlusssst~”
The sensuous hiss that escaped the demon sent goosebumps shivering across Nash's skin. Lust glided closer, looming over him until Nash bent backwards against the kitchen table. The scent of ozone and rose intensified around him, and Nash found himself swimming in it, floating in the hypnotic ocean of Lust's eyes. Anxiousness strangled him, left him short of breath. Lust both braced and unbalanced him, long arms blocking in both sides of his trembling shoulders.
“~Why, Eddie...you're salivating. Is that what drives you? Is that where your hunger lies~”
“I-I-” Roses on the demon's breath, so close he could see the hidden fangs. “P-please...”
“~Yessss~” Lust's deep voice neared a whisper.
“M-move back...”
The huge blue eyes dimmed with the demon's startled blink.
“~Ah, yes. Of course. Well, that form of lust isn't solely under my jurisdiction anyway~” he grumbled.
Nash relaxed as the demon moved away. Apprehension swirled in him, and something else. What would have happened if he just hadn't said anything? What was he willing to allow? Lust seemed to listen to him, more than their pact really demanded. All Lust really needed to do was not hurt him. He didn't need to feed Nash, or keep him company, or teach him things about Hell and beyond. Hostless, the demon was also alone in the world. Was he lonely too, or just an opportunist?
Why did Nash like it so much? His body reacted to Lusts teasing, but wasn't it supposed to? Could Lust tell when it happened? The demon never said anything about it, which was good, because Nash didn't know how to feel about it. He kept telling himself that it was because he was a teenager, and didn't have control over it. That Lust's presence was supposed to affect people like that. But what if it wasn't just that?
Nash wasn't very concerned about sexual orientation. Detective, Puzzles, and Swag had been effective roll models, and Nash had decided that it really wasn't that big a deal if he was gay. The only reason he'd been afraid of that in the first place was his father, and that was no longer an issue. It was very, extremely clear that Lust didn't care either, and why would he? It would all be food to him.
“Sorry, what?” Nash asked. Lust had been speaking.
“~I said that somethings are too complicated to be assigned to just one of us~” Lust repeated, tilting his head to look suspiciously at Nash. “~I cross lines often enough with both Gluttony and Love, and sometimes even Wrath and Trust, that things sometimes blur together. Why Eddie, it's unlike you to be so distracted~”
Nash scowled. Lust did like teasing him.
Narci seemed surprised to find Nash on his doorstep, but quickly ushered him inside.
“Are you free of that thing now?” he asked, concern in his airy voice. “I was talking to Arkham, and-”
“Really?” Nash said, skeptical. Narci's pale ears flushed.
“Well, I was talking to Puzzles, who talks to Arkham, and we were trying to figure out how to maybe banish-”
“Don't bother. I'm fine. I told him not to mess with you anymore, and besides, I don't want him gone. I like him.”
Narci stared at him.
“Nash, it's a monster!” Narci insisted. “It's going to hurt you!”
“No, no.” Nash waved his hands in front of him. “We have a pact, I'm safe. You don't have to worry.”
“It's a liar.” Narci shot back heatedly. “You can't believe anything it says! It just wants to take advantage of you. It'll swallow you if we don't drive it off. You can stay here with me while we figure out how. It's a demon, right? So, salt. Lots and lots of salt. I think it's...gold and amethyst that drive off evil spirits? I think I read that somewhere. I can get some of that easy, I might already have it, actually.”
He retrieved a box and began spinning through the complicated puzzle lock. He flubbed once, swearing in irritation at the needle that pierced his thumb upon his mistake, grabbing ad slurping down a vial of something from a nearby rack of what looked to Nash like fancy toiletries, and continuing on until the box cracked open.
It was full of beautiful jewelry, which sparkled in a dozen flashing colors as Narci rummaged about within, turning over loose stones and finished pieces alike, until he fished out a thick gold band topped with a shimmering purple stone the size of a penny.
“There! That oughta do it.” He handed it over to Nash.
“You don't actually believe this'll work, do you?” Nash asked.
“It's a start.” Narci said. “We can't let that thing have you.”
Nash handed the ring back. “Maybe you should wear it, if you're that scared.”
Narci grimaced and pushed the ring back into Nash's hands.
“I'm not scared!” he insisted. “I'm worried about you! That thing showed me awful visions. Awful lies. It's planning something for you, I know it.”
“Narci, they were just fantasies. That's what he does. Shows you something you want-”
“No! It's all lies! I'm not like that!” Narci struggled to regain control of himself. “Anyway, you keep that on. Just in case.”
“If you insist.” Nash said, pocketing the ring. It was a bit large for his hand. I actually wanted your help for something.”
He laid out his plan for the school officer, the why, the where, and the what.
“But I think I'll need help getting him there.” he finished. “It's not like I can dump him in a wheelbarrow and cart him around Gotham, you know.”
