A story high above the low, recorded by few, disputed by later.

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

WHO: EDWARD NYGMA and POSSIBLY YOU.
WHERE: NOHoPE.
WHEN: August 8th - August 14th.
WARNINGS: Sweep you all up on a corner and pay for my bread.
SUMMARY: You know that I cannot believe my own truth.
FORMAT: To show what a truth, it's got nothing to lose.



They had taken away his pens. After the fourteenth riddle he had marked over the once-pristine walls, they had informed him that he was acting destructively and could not do with this privilege any longer. Eddie hadn't humored this exceptionally well. If you hadn't intended for me to express myself, he had argued, you wouldn't have encouraged such easily attained access. Whose idea was it to give me the tools anyway? His words were stonewalled, met with incomprehension or disdain. And shortly soon, punishment. Edward Nygma found himself alone, without release, staring at his blackly inked words driven over his walls. A room riddled.

He kept thinking of Norman. How that man was meandering through his life, undisturbed, when he had so abruptly ruined Eddie's own. How unfair it was, how cruel. How much he direly wanted to snip out Norman's vocal chords with a charming pair of symbolically rusty scissors and --

Oh. But that was rather frowned upon, wasn't it?

"Hardly a resonating concern anymore, is it?" Eddie muttered to himself. He had been in the habit of drifting in and out of speech in his solitude. Robbed of an audience and introduced to all kinds of new anti-psychotics (how the market had changed, since his Arkham days), he found himself prone to halfway-audible discussions with his own ears. It was grand company thus far, he wouldn't argue that. His eyes focused on the wall to his left, idly reading his own desperate scrawls.

PARTIAL OBLIGATION
FOLLOWING 01000111
ENDING WITH THE PENULTIMATE IN BEGINNING

Work that had yet been erased by his self-appointed caretakers. He rather liked that one particular riddle, it was rather pivotal. The act itself was soothing, something delving deeper into his past habits. A sort of solace granted in the dark, quiet places of his mind. An old friend. A resolve, an endurance. Truth screaming behind art. Truth. Obsession. Compulsion. This was better, he reasoned, this is how it should be. And that thought was perhaps the thing that Eddie hated the most, the one idea that he couldn't suffer; knowing how Norman Osborn made this realization first.

We may as well talk on equal terms, was what Norman had said to him as they both wore their respective costumes, both soaked in darkness. Equal terms. It was a phrase that stung, as surely Norman knew. When Eddie orchestrated his rival's convoluted downfall, he had done so with the superiority of his moral action. Eddie was right, and if he had to sacrifice a few dozen innocent lives to prove how right he was, so be it. If he had to pay with minimal blood in order to rescue thousands -- maybe even millions -- then it was a price well paid. His method was unconventional, yes, but effective. He was an agent of the greater good, a visionary of the Bigger Picture. He was the hero who had humbled a monster. Equal terms dismantled the idea, mocked it. Weaponized it.

SLAIN WITHOUT THE LEAD
VILE IN CONJUNCTION
WHAT IS THE HERO?

Locked within the painfully pale rooms of the Norman Osborn Hospital of Psychological Evaluation, Edward Nygma then decided that he was done playing games.

Comments

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"Do I remember you? Mr. Bauer, who could forget such a charming demeanor?" Eddie spoke with his usual smirk, his emphasized words skirting the realm of mockery. Truth be told, Jack Bauer was not a man easily erased. There was a certain feeling that Bauer typically inspired, something mixed with wariness and careful awe. Eddie inclined his head, promptly curious about his company's intention.

He had a few guesses in hand.

"I'd offer you a drink, but I'm afraid the only thing I've on tap is water," he said as he indicated the small bathroom in the back. "And you'd have to use your hands to cup. I'm not allowed cups anymore, not after what happened the last time."

Eddie smirked again. He walked a few steps away from the door, as was customary for the arrival of guests. No one felt comfortable when a patient hovered too closely to the glass, even if Edward was technically allowed to move as he pleased (in restricted areas, during restricted times). One of the perks to his particular, non-criminal ward.

"How may I be of service, Jack Bauer?"

[out_of_time]

Jack was pretty sure Eddie was making fun of him. In his experience, most people who called his demeanour charming with a straight face were struggling to maintain it.

"I'm fine, thanks," he said in response to the tap water crack. He decided he didn't really need to know what happened the last time Nygma was allowed cups. Jack had little experience with mental illness- at least from the medical perspective as opposed to the 'what kind of person is genuinely willing to nuke Los Anglees' perspective- but was fairly certain that whatever had happened to this man, he was still capable of answering his questions.

"I want to talk to you about one of the people you worked with in your program," he said. "Katurian Katurian."

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"Oh?" Eddie's sharp grin lost its acute corners. He tilted his head at Jack, coolly observing his new guest for a moment. The change in attitude was impossibly not to notice, and Eddie did nothing to obscure it. Then, abruptly shrugging, he turned heel and began pacing to the corners of his room -- a newly adopted habit, born from his environment.

"I've just seen him recently," added Eddie, innocently enough. "He seemed quite well. Kind of him, wasn't it, to visit?"

The riddles behind him, coupled with the green and purple question marks that he and Eridan had colored the day past, stood a stark contrast to the rather composed appearance of Eddie. Inspired more by vanity than boredom, Eddie had kept as clean and even as he could manage. The only sign of alteration was the shadow of stubble growing -- efforts to secure a razor were not successful.

"So. What about him?"

[out_of_time]

"Yeah, it was really considerate of him," Jack nodded. "He seems like a nice guy. I'd say your program really worked with him." He frowned, focusing on Eddie and not the evidence of his illness scrawled all over the room. The composed image was the one Eddie wanted him to see, that's the one he'd look at.

"I'm looking for your professional opinion on him. On his progress, his stability." On whether there was a chance he would become like Fugue and start using his power to rewrite history and erase people as he saw fit.

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

"His stability?" Oh, how Eddie would've craved this opportunity months ago. The perfect little revenge just beckoning at his fingertips, a final word of superiority and control over Katurian's meager existence. But recent events had altered his motivation -- and not just those concerning Norman.

Eddie offered a more precise grin.

"He's been exemplary in behavioral recovery. The initial test wasn't easy for him, don't get me wrong, it hasn't been smooth sailing." If Jack hadn't already known about the tracker device implementation, he would know soon enough. Eddie carved his opinion to that fact. "But I agree with your assessment, that my program has worked for him. He's invested in the community, and he's a perhaps timid but active participant."

[out_of_time]

That's what Jack was expecting to hear- what he was hoping to hear. He kind of liked Katurian, in a protective way. And although he was only peripherally aware of the details of Katurian's case- there had always been larger things to worry about than him, probably always would be- what Eddie was saying with that precise grin scanned well with what Jack had seen or heard for himself about Katurian's trials and tribulations.

But he couldn't just settle for that. Because Katurian himself wasn't the real core of the matter, not really. He needed to be sure.

"I assume you know all about Katurian's powers, considering how closely you worked with him." Jack spoke casually, and kept his face neutral, stony, pokerlike.

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

"His time management issues, you mean?" Eddie wouldn't spare Jack the pun. He couldn't, not with such a captive audience, not when he was otherwise so alone. "Oh yes, I'm well aware of them. He had to declare his powers upon entering the program you know and -- well, I would know if he had lied."

The cavalier shrug was almost without malice. He kept his eyes on Jack, obsessively interested in every movement. Every subtle muscular twitch. It had been so long, since Edward entertained a man of the law. He had almost forgotten how engaging these exchanges were.

"But I had always known," he continued. Coyly. "Katurian wasn't always so hesitant with his abilities. He knows my past."

[out_of_time]

Ouch. Jack winced slightly at the pun. No one at CTU ever talked like this, that was for sure. He noted the smug surety behind Eddie's claim to being able to tell whether or not Katurian had lied, the satisfaction. Whatever skills at truth-telling Nygma had picked up as a P.I., he must have been pretty pleased with them.

The coy statement got another small twitch, a reaction of surprise and worry. "He knows your past? Do you mean he entered it?"

If he had, would that mean Katurian had met Nygma before he met Nygma? Just trying to think about it gave Jack that unpleasant feeling he got whenever he was out of his depth in the City's world of superhumans. But what he was really thinking about was the many, many things Nygma could mean by that- 'Katurian wasn't always so hesitant with his abilities.' A lot of the possible meanings were undesirable ones.