Edward Nygma (
enigmaestro) wrote in
capeandcowllogs2012-03-15 08:52 pm
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What is always present, but never present?
WHO: EDWARD NYGMA and YOU!
WHERE: City Hall (March 15th & 17th) and Manhattan (March 16th & March 18th)
WHEN: March 15th 2012 - March 18th 2012
WARNINGS: Will edit in, if any reason arises.
SUMMARY: On the cusp of something monumental.
FORMAT: Will start with paragraph, but otherwise it's tagger's choice.
It was time well spent, he reasoned. An elegant rise to power, an esteemed hold on society, it was something he had always favored. Sure, political power was something a bit more conventional than his younger tastes, but after three years in a bold new dimension one had to embrace change.
Hadn't one?
His pen tapped against a three-hundred-and-four tome of unsigned legislature: tapTAPtap taptap TAPtaptap TAPtaptap tapTAPtaptap tap TAPTAP tap --
"Damn it!"
He threw his pen at the thick wooden door before him, as if the instrument had whispered offensive words to his fingers. How could he let himself get distracted? He had meetings today and tomorrow, he had constituents to talk to and natives to woo. He had importance to glow with. Edward Nygma, Deputy Mayor of the City, had everything he could possibly want in a randomized environment: power, prestige, and social significance. And yet, between fending off lobbyists and penning new laws, between his lips against Felicia and his perfectly guiding words spoken to Eridan, sometimes in those untold seconds there was a gnawing need for something more. Something grander.
He couldn't stop thinking about riddles. And no matter how deeply he tried to repress the urge, no matter often he ignored the wince as his recently scarred back touched his seat, Eddie nevertheless kept thinking about riddling and revenge.
It was, as ever, Norman Osborn's fault.
WHERE: City Hall (March 15th & 17th) and Manhattan (March 16th & March 18th)
WHEN: March 15th 2012 - March 18th 2012
WARNINGS: Will edit in, if any reason arises.
SUMMARY: On the cusp of something monumental.
FORMAT: Will start with paragraph, but otherwise it's tagger's choice.
It was time well spent, he reasoned. An elegant rise to power, an esteemed hold on society, it was something he had always favored. Sure, political power was something a bit more conventional than his younger tastes, but after three years in a bold new dimension one had to embrace change.
Hadn't one?
His pen tapped against a three-hundred-and-four tome of unsigned legislature: tapTAPtap taptap TAPtaptap TAPtaptap tapTAPtaptap tap TAPTAP tap --
"Damn it!"
He threw his pen at the thick wooden door before him, as if the instrument had whispered offensive words to his fingers. How could he let himself get distracted? He had meetings today and tomorrow, he had constituents to talk to and natives to woo. He had importance to glow with. Edward Nygma, Deputy Mayor of the City, had everything he could possibly want in a randomized environment: power, prestige, and social significance. And yet, between fending off lobbyists and penning new laws, between his lips against Felicia and his perfectly guiding words spoken to Eridan, sometimes in those untold seconds there was a gnawing need for something more. Something grander.
He couldn't stop thinking about riddles. And no matter how deeply he tried to repress the urge, no matter often he ignored the wince as his recently scarred back touched his seat, Eddie nevertheless kept thinking about riddling and revenge.
It was, as ever, Norman Osborn's fault.
16 March, early at a newsstand
He quieted the desire to push Nygma into oncoming traffic and plastered what he considered a neutral expression on his face.]
Morning, Deputy Mayor.
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Edward turned, smiling in motion, to meet the voice. It was the face of a predictably well-to-do business type, someone of social stature and -- though Eddie balked a moment at the gaze -- oddly unnerving eyes.
Definitely a business type, he concluded.]
And good morning to you. It's always pleasant to hear a man in the know.
[Translation: about time random people started giving me my proper title.]
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One of the few pleasantries of a thankless job, I imagine.
[Roman gave an obviously fake laugh, the smile on his face not extending to his eyes.]
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And he was inclined to bank on the latter, in this case.]
Ah, well. You know how it is, between natural disasters and alien invasions and unorthodox murders I haven't really the time to listen to all my due gratitude.
[He peered back at the front of the line, cursing the five people who dawdled still.]
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[He let out a soft "heh heh" and took another sip of his coffee, watching with amusement as Nygma turned his head forward.]
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When he whipped back around, he slid his hand behind Roman's back and very forcibly guided them beyond prying ears. Roman had ample muscle on Edward's form, but the latter was hoping that surprise would anchor his command.]
What a curious thing to say. [His smile never wavered, though it was ill-matched to the maniacal widening of his eyes. Eddie leaned in to whisper.] What a curious thing indeed, Roman.
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You have the wrong man, Nygma. Clearly the stress of politics is getting to you.
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I don't need falsehood detection to know who you are, new face or not. I can appreciate a prelude as much as the next man, but what I'm most interested in is the why.
Why are you hiding? You know who did you in, don't you? How much preparation does revenge take?
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I don't know what you're talking about, you lunatic. Is this how you typically treat your constituents?
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[He poked the tip of his tongue from between his teeth, serpentine in his smile.]
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I did, but after this display, I'll be supporting neither you nor Hundred.
[Which, of course, was a lie. The first part, at least.]
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It wasn't a motion that could inspire pain, it was simply to taunt.]
You're not registered to vote. I daresay most criminal elements aren't, Roman, wouldn't you agree? So. [He gave the finger a little squeeze.] Are we going to talk about how painful that death looked?
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Why settle for mere chit-chat when you could experience it for yourself, Edward?
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[He felt something crack in his wrist, under Roman's hand. Definitely a hairline fracture, his thoughts rushed, maybe worse. But the greater concern, the more explicit worry etched into his eyes and mouth came from Roman's reveal.
He couldn't pull away fast enough. He couldn't pull away at all.]
You let it happened. [He hissed in response, trying desperately to cover his initial fear.] You let yourself get killed. And goodness, wasn't it simply humiliating?
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Just as you're letting this happen now.
[He continued to squeeze, curling his fingers as he did.]
And I wouldn't call it humiliating, Edward. More illuminating than anything else.
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[The smile he tried for wavered under his eyes. His knees began to buckle by fractions.]
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[He grinned gleefully at Nygma's pain. He'd been waiting months to get his hands on the infuriating man, but he couldn't have him collapsing in the street.]
And if you make a scene, I have no scruples about crippling you in front of these people.
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Eddie's other hand released Roman's own, and he tried vainly to pull away.]
Don't make this harder than it has to be!
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I agree entirely, and I see now that my little joke with your crosswords wasn't enough.
[He pressed the index finger back, hoping to hear the satisfying snap of bone.]
I just want you to learn your place. That's all I want. In the grand scheme of things, it's not that much to ask.
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[Eddie sucked in a breath, lowering his elbow to accommodate for some slither of the tension. That brought him a seemingly involuntary step closer. He swallowed, hard, the motion nearly audible from his throat. The sharp twangs in his wrist indicated deepening fractures.
He needed to buy time.]
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The place where you mind your own business.
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[With each hissed word, Eddie edged closer to Roman's body until his was perfectly parallel in stance. The pain in his hand was agonizing now, and any ill-maneuvered motion was sure to split bone and tear cartilage. Nevertheless, Edward grit his teeth as he stared Roman in that masquerading fleshed face.]
Everything is my business.
[And he gripped Roman's shoulder with his free hand and swung up his knee between Roman's parted legs.]
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That's one hell of an abdominal cramp. Let's get you some Midol.
[There was an art to humiliation.]
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You son of a bitch--!
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