[rl] Harvey and the Riddler [open to Crane and Joker]

[thedawniscoming]

The ramshackle 'hide out' (they really did sound like masked villains when people threw around those terms) was quieter than he expected when he first came, with no where else to really head in a city where everyone thought he was six feet under. Land lords weren't fond of giving leases to men without names, or full faces for that matter, even in the Narrows where practically anything could crawl from the woodwork with a fistful of cash.

Not that he had that either. All his bank accounts belonged to Bruce and he certainly wasn't about to go ask for money from the playboy, even if it was his own. He wasn't quite ready to steal yet either, even from the corpses of mobsters who were shunned by Liberty's etched gaze. It put Harvey Dent into a particularly troublesome predicament, living between worlds on the turn of a silver dollar. Now though, being torn between two polar sides was becoming bearable. Almost comfortable. Routine.

He didn't bother to clean or prepare for his 'guest,' and he was sure if anything the man in green would delight in mocking him for it. I can help you Harvey. Harvey scoffed as he flipped his coin in the air, watching it sail back down into his palm. Everyone seemed to think there was escape from this. Harvey knew better the minute he pressed a gun to Gordon's young son's forehead and felt nothing but vindication.

So Harvey Dent took a seat against the wall, unconsciously flipping his coin once and again, and wondered if Liberty was smiling or laughing at him in the same dry cackle that seemed to follow whenever she come up tails.

Comments

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

Edward Nygma was a man used to luxury. It was a bred, not born, taste. His rather modest upbringing was wrought with hurt and disappointment and--possible worse--the lack of recognition. But that's why Eddie Nashton became Edward Nygma. That's when his transformation into something greater exploded into the twisting nebulae of existence.

But that's also another tale.

Point was rather simple; Eddie liked a lifestyle of glamor and comfort. He did not like the arduous and vomit-inducing task of world hopping, and nor did he like the muck smeared to his Italian leather shoes, a gift gathered once he hit the smoke-screened streets of Other Gotham.

He had memorized the address. He could have been there quickly enough. But Edward was never one to ignore his curiosity; a few addition minutes spent exploring the variations of Other Gotham engaged Edward's attention.

Perhaps the wail of sirens brought the Riddler back to his senses. Perhaps the rank stench of rotting flesh caught in the corners of alleys. Perhaps he knew that any Harvey would have a little patience for a man like him, but eventually something provoked Edward to his final destination.

"Miss me?"

[thedawniscoming.livejournal.com]

Harvey didn't lift his gaze as he gave his coin a final flip. Tails. He ran his thumb over the char.

"The time just crawled by without you." He commented dryly as he stood, turning to finally face this man. He wasn't sure what he had expected or what he felt in return, but he made sure to remember the face. If there was an 'Edward Nashton' crawling amongst the filth of Harvey's Gotham he had every intention of finding him first - seeing just how 'parallel' these two worlds were.

"Ed." He said, tone level as he titled his head. "Welcome to Gotham."

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

The rudely casual shorthand of his name provoked a twitch from the green-eyed man's left eye. Directing his attention to the pulling of a violently purple glove, Edward's lips cracked into a humorless sneer. He didn't bother correctly Harvey.

Edward.

Aloud, at any rate. Edward, Edward, Edward...

"Gee, it's like I've been here all my life," the light tone was infused with sarcasm. Stepping deeper into the room, Edward offered his hand. "Pleasure to meet you in person. Honestly."

[thedawniscoming.livejournal.com]

If Harvey registered the twitch he didn't show it, turning to walk further into the room. He doubted Crane or Joker would be so merciful with... pet peeves. They certainly weren't with open wounds.

"Who wouldn't believe that sincerity." Harvey answered, glancing to the man's hand out of the ruined side of his face. "Forgive the mess, they don't have house guests often." He commented in the same sardonic tone, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to flip his coin over something as simple as a handshake. A handshake. He turned away as the anger colored the unmarred half of his face, heading towards a counter.

"Want a drink?" He asked, anger managing to vanish as quickly as it came.

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

Eddie flexed his abandoned open hand into a fist. Well, playing hard to get, Harv? No matter. Edward enjoyed a challenge. Maybe it was right that Other Gotham, this new stage for his tocking mechanisms and suckling limelight, was proving to be a difficult nut to crack.

And dear God, there were plenty of nuts about. Eddie happened to be smiling at one that very moment.

Smiling at Harvey, the green-clad man shrugged. "Gin on the rocks, if you will." Gin was a small obsession with Eddie; he blamed the juniper filtering. Anything with juniper in it had to be somewhat devious.

"Nice place," lied Edward with a bold smirk. "Really Ritzy. What's the rent?"

[thedawniscoming.livejournal.com]

"Entertainment value." Harvey answered. At least for one of the two. What Crane got out of it Harvey didn't know. He could see the puppet strings well enough to suspect it wouldn't matter if he got what he wanted or not in the 'hierarchy.'

He came back over, handing Edward his glass before sitting down with his own cup of scotch, on one of the old chair lying about haphazardly.

"No files for an Edward Nashton." He said idly, glancing at his glass as he spoke. "Not in the GCPD anyway." He looked back up at Edward as he took a drink from his cup, the exposed muscles of his jaw contracting tightly at the burn. "Guess I'll have to dig deeper."

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

Eddie's wide-eyed look of surprise was quickly veiled with a self-satisfied smugness. The corners of his eyes wrinkled with delight. Arching an eyebrow before raising his glass, Edward mockingly toasted Harvey's fruitless efforts.

"It's a lost cause, Harv, so don't bother. Why try? After all, I'm your most trusty resource on matters of Edward Nashtons," smirked the reclining fellow. He savored a sip of gin.

"But this isn't about me. This is about you, Harv, and what you're doing to yourself. What you're allowing to happen."

[thedawniscoming.livejournal.com]

"Call it a hobby." Harvey answered. Maybe his old compulsion for some form of control manifesting itself again. He didn't care to dwell on it or allow Edward to fall on the topic either.

"What I'm doing to myself." He repeated derisively, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning to look over at this man, expression bland. "And just what am I doing to myself that you think you can fix Nygma?"

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

Eddie let the first subject drop. He wasn't keen on showing excessive interest in the subject of his doppelganger; it was a weak point, and one that would be easily exploited. No, that wasn't an aspect that needed attention right now.

Sighing gracefully, Eddie crossed one slender leg over the other, creating a twisting pattern of green. "My dear Mr. Dent-- Why ask questions that you already know the answers to? You're at the crux of a personal transition, and you feel lost. Vulnerable. You need an example, if only to lend some perspective. I've been through all of that. I can help you with that confusing cognitive dissonance. I can help you find balance."

[thedawniscoming.livejournal.com]

"I just like the sound of your voice." Harvey replied in the same dry as dust air, watching the man speak with an intensity that did not mix well with the sarcastic comment. A lot of the words were nothing he hadn't heard in that hospital after his fall, where the Batman and Gordon had hidden him away. But one word caught his attention. Balance. Symmetry. Wasn't that was justice was about? Never tipping the scale. Running blind.

"And how will you do that?" Harvey's tone was derisive but the sharp edge could not feign disinterest. A man cannot live two lives. They told him. We have to be fair, her voice whispered back. Chaos, cackled out like the crack of gasoline igniting. And now this man, liar - a part of his mind supplied, this man smiled and said 'balance.' And Harvey listened so that part of his mind condemning the liar would be drowned out.

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

"Through a simple experiment," assured Edward. Pausing before his next--and final--sip of gin, Edward caught the distracting, if faint, aroma. Citrus emitted the most interesting smell; smooth with unexpected spikes, brilliantly smashing the senses when one least expected it. What a hell of a model to follow, thought Eddie as his citrus-perfumed gin vanished past that silver tongue of his.

Eddie had an arsenal of deductions to work with. He drew on this Harvey's reaction to the aforementioned Gilda. How odd, that a man from an entirely different variation of Eddie's universe would show even the faintest regret and wistfulness over Two-Face's former fiancee. How touching. How incredibly useful.

"Just an experiment. I'm assuming the ah, moral split you seem to be suffering isn't easy to smooth out. You're angry and you feel cheated. Who wouldn't? You HAVE been cheated. But repressing your reaction? Trying to repress that? It's a failure in progress. Let it out, in a controlled setting if you must. Prove to yourself you don't need that, ah, darker aspect."

Eddie smiled.

[thedawniscoming.livejournal.com]

'Experiment.' Harvey downed the rest of his own drink in one swift motion.

"I don't repress it." Harvey argued, setting the glass down to the side as he watched the man carefully, almost sullenly. "I just-" Have trouble deciding? It happens when you're of two minds on all things. Someone has to choose. Why not make it fair? "-don't leave it up to me."

He didn't repress, he allowed the 'darker aspect' to have it's way whenever his coin turned up charred. The wrong decision, the right one. He wasn't sure such labels mattered anymore.

Still, the man had an interesting point, as much as part of Harvey lashed against every word he said. Some of those words sounded so close to the Joker's, who wasn't supposed to make such clear logic yet he always did whenever he cackled in Harvey's ear. This wasn't helping, madmen weren't supposed to be messiahs, shallow playboys weren's supposed to be able to stand so morally sound. The cops weren't supposed to throw their own morals to the side and Gordon, the Bat, they were supposed to pick her. The good guys were supposed to win.

Harvey turned his gaze up, smoldering and cold, to the smiling man. "How do you suggest going about that?"

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

The sound of long legs being crossed and uncrossed, that subtle friction of green fabric, broke the brief breath of silence following Harvey's admittedly fair question. Edward had a plan, of course; he always had a plan. He was the epitome of preparedness, in many ways, always thinking ahead and examining the situation from every imaginable perspective or angle. All pieces of a puzzle being fit together, all clues to a greater crime. All of it within Edward's control.

He thrived on it. Needed control--especially cerebral control--like alcoholics need that last vodka.

Humoring Dent with a thin smile and a slightly doleful look, the very same a mentor would give his usually prized pupil who had made a mistake, Edward then shook his head. Eddie wasn't keen on forking over all his answers, not when it seemed so unnecessary, but Dent required the illusion of domination. Edward could sacrifice that much, maybe.

"If you really must know," drawled out the smooth, smug tone. "It is a therapeutic experiment that may seem counter-intuitive at first; we're going to set you in situations where you have to either choose an outcome, or let him--I mean the coin--configure that conclusion for you. If the latter occurs more, you will understand how that aspect of your psyche works." Eddie leaned in, his brow furrowed deeply with concern. Wrinkles formed, as if attempting to speak of Eddie's sincerity on his behalf.

"It won't be easy, but you need to understand your problem before you can solve it. I'm a name of many names, Harv, but I've always been known as a thinker. You have to learn how to outsmart your learned compulsion."

Or fall prey to it. Utterly.

[thedawniscoming.livejournal.com]

The 'Riddler' was reminding him of someone, a thought on the edge of his mind. He sat back into the chair, eyes never leaving Edward's, expression turning bland as he spoke, almost thoughtfully. Everyone thought it was something that could change. That is was something he wanted to change. Half right perhaps.

"It's your game Nygma." He said, though something of an edge crept into his voice. Maybe his time with Bruce's influence, disdain for his dependency on the coin, had made it's mark. It wasn't as easy to sacrifice himself to it's whims, even as his fingers itched to see if he should continue the conversation. If he should trust Edward Nygma. What did that smile remind him of?

"And what happens then?" He leaned forward again, more Harvey Dent in his tone, betraying curiosity. Perhaps a touch of desperation. It all sounded the same after a while. "If you 'outsmart your compulsion.'" He paused, expression matching that slight curiosity. "Did you outsmart it Mr. Nygma?" He was 'redeemed' after all.

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

The question would have looped him, had Eddie not already anticipated its emergence. The key to manipulation was clear: know your subject. Understand what interests him. Uncover the connections he will uncover. It was such a simple formula, Occam's razor simple, but yet one that yielded triumph more often than not. Edward needed to convince Harvey that he only had the former DA's best interests in mind. He needed to come across as at least 80% altruistic, especially since the reality was a far lower number. He needed Harvey to recognize aspects of himself within the Riddler.

"Yes," the soft admittance, almost unwilling. "I don't leave riddles anymore. I don't feel the suffocating necessity. But it wasn't easy, Harvey. It really wasn't." It was a sacrifice only Edward would have mourned: a year-long coma, one which had suppressed parts of his obsessive-compulsive disorder. Perhaps scientifically impossible, and yet it had happened. But that was only one compulsion, the successfully disposed-of one. And Harvey had only inquired after one.

Nor did he ask about any psychopathic obsessions.

"What happens then? That's in your own hands. Up to you. But if you want to no longer be a prisoner of your own mind, your own fears--if you want a fighting chance--you need to understand your enemy, Harv. Or you'll never win. You'll be welcomed back." The gravity of that serious timber broke when another smirk split his face. "But I guess things could be worse. After all, you'll never be alone. Two's company."

[thedawniscoming.livejournal.com]

Leaving riddles - that was certainly interesting. It reminded him of months before, trying to wring information out of Gordon on the new menace in Gotham with a glasglow grin. He can't help but leave us signs, clues. But that was for attention, for some reason Harvey completely understood because it was all part of the 'chaos.' He wondered if that had been why this man played with fire as well.

"You sound like Bruce." He muttered, more to himself than to the Riddler, more an irritated, resigned comment than anything else. Edward kept talking about two but there wasn't, there wasn't two, and god damn it he wanted to wring the man's throat right then and there just to make him take the words back. If it were Joker or Crane he would have already thrown the first punch but this was different, this man didn't belong to his time or world and that gap between them somehow helped keep Harvey's physicality in check. This man who sounded too much like Bruce and Gordon, Crane and Joker, but nothing like Rachel - thank whatever stars decided to take pity on him. Thank luck.

"If I could decide that I wouldn't be here." He settled for the low growl, glancing up again after his expression had thinned and calmed. "And how does your 'Two Face' feel about being alone?"

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

"Bruce?" An indignant wrinkle of his nose indicated disdain. "Bruce Wayne?" And something light up, something bright but faraway. Something akin to a lighthouse in the distance of his mind. Shame that tumultuous storm that was Harvey Dent fogged such an inkling. Whatever gasping memory called for Edward's attention, well, its cry was in vain.

The curling sneer not quite hidden in the corner of Riddler's lips twitched. Something wasn't going to plan; he should have convinced Harvey by now, according to his own mental schedule. Clearing his throat, Edward leaned closer to the other man, resting his angular chin on a fist. A new direction was needed.

"Dent's not alone. Yes, I was being facetiousness with his personality shard, but that's a psychosis. It's still just him. The good and the bad, melded into one. He's just human. But he's not alone. He always has Batman. You see, one is reflected into the other; hence Batman's obsession with Dent. Batman cannot and will not give up on Harvey, he's the only villain Bats has ever truly wanted to redeem. Because if Dent is condemned, then Batman is sentenced as well. I think it goes deeper than a guilt complex." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Edward sighed.

"You may be whole now, you may just be cracked a twinge, but soon you'll shatter, Harvey. You'll shatter like he did. Batman."

[thedawniscoming.livejournal.com]

Harvey's gaze sharpened noticeably when the name left Edward's lips, his good eye narrowing as he watched the man carefully. Whatever had passed through Nygma's mind seem to have passed as it had come, and Harvey sat back, glance still suspicious but lightening as well. Edward had his own Wayne to play with if that's what he so wished.

Then they were back on Batman, and any expression on Harvey's face shifted to something unreadable. His explanation rang close to what occurred here, in his own Gotham. Batman had chosen him instead of Rachel, hadn't he? Because he thought Harvey was his only chance to put down his mantel. Because he and Bruce had the ridiculous notion that if they could save Harvey they could save Gotham, or something along those lines. Like Harvey was Gotham's hope. He nearly fell to laughter. The Bat, Bruce, sometimes they were just too... in sync. Sitting in that mental hospital, he remembered the things Bruce said, how close they were to the things the Bat had said when Harvey had held a gun up to Gordon's son. Don't let him win Harvey. You can still be that man.

He practically jerked his head up to break himself from the thoughts, dangerous ground, and fixed his eyes on Edward in confusion. "Shattered?" he asked - the Batman? "What do you mean like the Batman?"

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

Edward's gaze slid over Harvey's unique features. Of course, there was something just a little too perfect about this situation. Naturally Dent would be connected to Batman, of course. They all were, in every world, no matter the variation. That seemed to remain as some sick constant. But now, mused Edward, what was Harv's stake? Clearly personal. The question was the directed to what degree? How personal? By observing the sheer intensity of Harvey's demeanor--confusion or no--Edward would wager something very personal.

"Oh Harvey," Edward tilted his head, tutting in a mockingly disappointed manner. "You don't think a man masquerading as bat wouldn't suffer a few losses over the years? Partners, lovers, friends." Shrugging, as if bored, the detective flourished his hand, indicating that Harvey could fill in the rest. "Hell, Joker even killed his Robin once. And it's all his fault. Don't you think that pulls at Batman? Don't you think it deteriorates his locus of control? The man's broken."

[thedawniscoming.livejournal.com]

As much as he hated the Batman the words brought a sharp irritation, almost irrational anger, up Harvey's spine. He wasn't broken, no, maybe their Batman but not his. His Batman was a liar and a coward, the harbinger of destruction upon Gotham but he was whole - no, maybe in two. Batman and whoever was behind the mask. Not shattered - he may be a coward but he was not weak. Harvey had seen that much.

"Maybe your Batman." Harvey answered, standing up and picking up his empty glass. "Hell, maybe ours one day. But not yet." He said it as though it were the simplest response in the world, something anyone could see if they took a glance in the right direction. He poured himself another drink, turning his attention back to Edward before he downed the shot and placed the glass back down. It always left an after taste like gasoline.

"Alright." He said after the long pause, still watching Edward. "Figure out your little experiment and we'll try." He clarified, brow raised at his glass. "It's not like I have anything left to lose."

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

"Mine's been around longer than yours has. A lot longer," pointed out the Riddler. "I'd learn from that, if I were you." A significant pause followed. "They say he's dead now, you know." His tone implied that Edward didn't buy into such propaganda. Missing, sure; Batman went missing all the time. But dead? No. Broken, bleeding, disillusioned, yes to all the above. But never dead. It was almost unfathomable.

"Well, as long as I'm your last ditch gambit," the sarcastic tone was not particularly graceful. "Nevertheless, I'm glad you understand the potential in this matter. We'll be in touch, Harv."

{Aaand end scene?]

[thedawniscoming.livejournal.com]

They say he's dead now, as soon as the words left Nygma's mouth he glanced sharply to the man, watching his movements as though trying to pick something out. He seemed to not believe it but-

No, Harvey knew the Bat was human, disgustingly so, but to think he could die so easily nearly made him laugh. The Batman wasn't dead. It wasn't possible, in either world. Not yet at least.

"See you around." He answered, sitting back and still for a long time after the man had left. Anarchy, experimentation. His lip curled to something like a sneer before he stood, heading out into the Gotham streets with his gun tucked firmly in his belt.

[End scene~ Sorry, had to address that dead batman part :X

It was lovely rping with you, I certainly hope you'll keep in touch proposition wise and all~]