capeandcowllogs | Only two backbones and thousands of ribs.

Only two backbones and thousands of ribs.

WHO: Riddler and Rorschach.
WHERE: A bar.
WHEN: May 28th, 4:00PM. During the Osborn assassination attempt.
WARNINGS: It’s a special bar.
SUMMARY: Edward extends the olive branch to his best buddy Rorschach. Sorta.
FORMAT: The usual.

“And remember to bring your precious little diary. I want to know who’s the hunkiest hunk in town, as told by the great detective Fornicating Bunnies Face.”

Edward had mockingly sneered those last words into the communicator before he hung up. It was the best way to draw Rorschach out for a second meeting, deduced the Riddler; act as condescending as possible, and the other man wouldn’t—couldn’t—back down. Not from Eddie. It was a challenge.

A challenge that borne a risk. Edward knew what would unfold within the next hour. He knew, thanks to Osborn’s little show and tell a few days previous, that the camera crews of the local stations would be glued to this shiny, controversial hero. And—moreover—Eddie knew that today, Osborn was going to be a star.

So he knew he needed a slick alibi. He knew he needed to be in the presence of the one man who could possibly figure out his brilliant scheme. Eddie knew he had to make Rorschach believe that he was as removed from the Osborn plot as possible; if the other detective caught a whiff of evidence that Eddie was the mastermind of something much bigger, well.

Then it was Game Over. And that was unacceptable.

So Edward Nygma took a risk. He put himself directly into the lion’s den to prove he was a lamb. They would both see this unfold together. In the company of drinks and chatter and assumption. It would make or break his façade of innocence.

Thank God he was a hell of an actor.

So Edward was waiting outside a swank bar on Seventh Avenue. It was small and discreet on the outside. But whenever the door swung open, a loud burst of the Scissor Sisters broke through the air.

Oh damn. Eddie forgot to mention one minor detail about the establishment.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Eddie's mocking, honestly, didn't faze him that much. He'd bore the brunt of thousands of insults in his lifetime, and each stab at his ego only caused a thickening of the outer layer, a hardening to the point where they were just words the same as every other. Rorschach had no ego. Only a sense of morality.

He would go to him, regardless of what he said. Edward Nygma was extremely suspicious. Despite the fact that the vigilante hadn't caught him in the act of something illegal, he had the distinct hunch that he would. This was enough to summon him in the night.

Not that it was night yet. As summer was approaching, so were the longer days. Rorschach did not favor it. He preferred the night, the cover of darkness. The cockroaches came out to attempt their crimes, thinking they were the hunters and not the hunted. Not in this city. Not under his watch.

Once he made it to the bar, Rorschach approached and stopped within about five feet of the taller man. Silent, his face shifting perpetually. Hands in pockets. Now what.

"Well hello." Edward looked down at his companion. And unconsciously closed his left hand into a slight fist, effectively protecting the fingers that Rorschach has so kindly fractured during their last rendezvous. What a charmer.

"So glad you agreed to meet with me. I didn't think our first encounter went off with a bang, so I thought perhaps we'd give it a second impression." All lies, of course, and Edward was curious to see what Rorschach could deduce from that. He knew one thing; the other detective couldn't detect falsehoods like Eddie could. That, if anything, was a boon.

"I hope this place is to your tastes." Eddie smiled, hand on the steel door. "Just for us. Two American joes kicking back and enjoying a happy hour drink." The Riddler pushed opened the door, revealing a swarm of gaudy lights. A few chiseled bodies turned to pay mind. It wasn't the heyday crowd; mostly just men back early from work, looking for a little relief. An inviting atmosphere, delightfully engaging music.

Just what you'd except for a gay bar.

All Rorschach had in reply was a nondescript grunt.

Ignoring Eddie's stupid comments, he headed for the door, oblivious. The establishment did seem a bit more polished than the bars he was used to raiding for information. Didn't matter. He stepped inside before pausing.

This... well, again. Back home he didn't spend a lot of time in gay bars.

Why did Nygma keep bringing him to these awkward places.

"Hrgh," he stated, irritated already and causing a rather wide space between himself and the general crowd. Good. The same rules applied here as the last place they met up.

Rorschach turned and shot a glance over his shoulder at Eddie. Hateful. Perhaps the other detective could hear his internal demand as to why they were here, though Rorschach probably knew the answer. Edward was just a bastard.

Edward gave his most innocent, surprised look when he stepped into the bar. Whoops, said his expression. And yes, it took every ounce of strength to maintain a straight face. He thought Rorschach would appreciate the effort. Grabbing the fellow's arm, Eddie dragged the shorter man to a table right by the bare, wooden dance floor. A few souls were already mingling there. A set of televisions were overhead, set to a dance show program.

"So what would you like to drink? Sex on the beach? Sounds like your sort of thing, honestly. Do you keep your mask on? You can tell me. I'm trustworthy." The smarmy fellow smirked. He knew Rorschach was boiling with hate right now. Knew it, and some part of him loved it. It was always a pleasure to push the buttons of a assumed stoic.

"No, actually--you look like an appletini sort of man."

Okay. A lot of him loved it.

Rorschach did not like being grabbed. He especially did not like being grabbed by people he distrusted and disliked. Though at first he allowed himself to be dragged out of pure shock that Eddie would just attempt it so suddenly, he quickly retaliated with a swift jab to the solar plexus to knock the Riddler off of him, followed with a hard shove as he stepped away. Distancing himself from the other detective.

"Don't drink," Rorschach replied, all gravelly and monotone, clearly pissed off. Already he wanted to leave, feeling claustrophobic and ready to stab someone in the neck with a broken glass.

"What did you want."

"Of course you wouldn't." Eddie hacked out, taking a few moments to recover his position and his breath. Typical. But hell, if Rorschach was going to be as difficult as possible, Edward would just have to play the opposite spectrum.

To a degree. He didn't want to appear excessively suspicious, not at a time like this.

"I told you. I want to make better our initial impressions. I think it will be useful for a working relationship." The Riddler took his seat.

Already Eddie wanted a drink.

And Rorschach remained standing. Defiant. Defiant and almost paranoid; he continually glanced around the room they were in for signs of someone coming too close or, worse, trying to touch him. Such would result in broken bones.

It was obvious he didn't trust Eddie at all. Why did the man persist? Surely he had better things to do. Perhaps he was overestimating the Riddler.

"Here." Rorschach said this flatly, as if the idea of sorting out their troubles in a gay bar of all places was the absolute worst one to do it in.

It was.

Such thoughts were the kind Eddie wanted embedded in Rorschach's mind; the more evident it was that Rorschach was starting to underestimate Riddler, the happier the latter would be. But he wasn't at that point yet; or so Eddie suspected. Rorschach was a little keener than most people Eddie had encountered, and that's why special attention was needed.

Eddie wanted to neutralize this threat. And he wanted to continue on with his own plans.

"And why not here? It's a festive environment. Suitable for discussion. And moreover, no one will interrupt us if they think we're together."

What Eddie would give to see the expression under that mask.

At the words, the patterns on his mask which had been relatively slow-moving in the course of their idle, none-too-friendly chatter of before, abruptly shifted into what resembled some distorted, spiked visage of surprise and anger. Possibly. The mirrored images were always subjective to whomever was looking at them. Rorschach found himself having less and less patience around Nygma, not that he had much in the first place - but insinuating something like that would not be tolerated.

He ducked closer to Eddie before slamming a hand down on his left wrist, fingers digging into the big pulsing vein and constricting blood flow, bending it at an awkward angle that would easily snap it if he simply twitched his own wrist hard enough. A similar move had seemed to frighten Edward the last time they'd met; see if it worked again.

"No. Get to point, Nygma. Things to do," he growled, near the breaking point. How could a fellow "detective" be so aloof to the situations going on within the city, so careless, almost... had he not seen or heard the rampant dissent concerning that young girl, murdered for the entire community to see? Rorschach was quite doubtful of Eddie's skill and ability as a self-proclaimed detective.

And that's exactly what Eddie wanted. He required the other detective to doubt him, needed Rorschach to not comprehend his abilities. Oh yes, he was well aware of the spectacle concerning the female victim. In fact, he knew how to take down the people responsible. He simply didn't care; Edward had greater pursuits in mind. Things that would change the City for the better. He--Gotham's top detective at his time--was so tragically stolen from his home and yet the instant his feet touched this parallel dimensional ground, Edward saw potential. His was a story of inspiration.

Things were going to change, and he was the mastermind behind it all.

But first he had to conquer this small, fedora-adorned hurdle.

"Bloody hell!" Edward hissed out, his eyes growing wide with pain. And he had just gone to a healer; his current contact who was now out of commission. Damn it. "Off! Get off now." Edward made as if he was leaning in with the offended shoulder, as if trying to lessen the tension held against his wrist. He drew in the elbow and angled the shoulder, subtlety trying to rub against Rorschach's front torso. Trying to decipher exactly where that damned notebook was kept.

For future reference.

"Perhaps--nngh, damn it--you shouldn't draw so much attention. Wouldn't want someone touching you, now?"

It would be a lie to say Rorschach wasn't slightly pleased with the effect. How predictable. Nobody could take localized pain for long, not here. None seemed to match the endurance he knew every human could take, should they ready themselves enough. Personal experience.

As Eddie leaned forward, his shoulder pressing against him - far too much contact between them - Rorschach quickly drew his knee up to ram into the Riddler's stomach, hopefully get him the hell away.

"Get to point." Again. He was relentless as a pit bull to another dog in a fight, keeping a vicegrip on Eddie's wrist. They were drawing stares, sure, but he didn't care, so long as nobody came up and attempted to stop it.

Unlikely.

Shit. That bloody well hurt like hell. The knee to his stomach caused his body to double over, bringing the taller man below Rorschach's presumed line of sight for the first time in his life. And still the other man held onto his wrist.

But Eddie had rubbed against it. Just barely perceptible, the slight hard form under that trench indicated the presence of something alien to Rorschach's body. It didn't take much deduction to figure out therein hid that damned diary. Lovely.

"Information trade!" Eddie gasped out, his mind working quickly. He just needed to stall until the television flicked onto the news. Just until then.

Information was a word he liked to hear. Rorschach finally released his grip, pushed Eddie back roughly. Hurting him seemed to make him talk, just like everyoen else.

"About murder?" he questioned, obviously referring to the case with the young girl. This was his prime concern at the moment; catching her killer and delivering justice.

If it wasn't, Rorschach probably had no use for him.

He didn't bother to hide his seething glare after the stumble backwards. All the more better for the act, right? As long as Rorschach was artfully misguided, fed some snippets of truth interwoven with misinformation, then Edward knew he was in the clear. As keen a detective as Rorschach may have been, he was easy prey to Edward's manipulation. Just like everyone else.

"I pick up things others just can't." Eddie's charming smile resumed a position on his face, with the aim of irritating Rorschach even more. He needed his fellow detective to get distracted. This was going to require some fleet thinking, this little chat. Magato, the murderer in question, was going to kill again. On television. As Eddie's bidding dictated.

So Edward smiled.

"You saw on screen how much the man--if you could call him that--enjoyed exposure. Publicity. Attention. Obviously he's trying to prove something. But, the questions is, to whom? That Einstellsehn woman. The one who claimed him as her own. He must seek her approval in some manner and, in his rash bloodlust, overestimated her opinion on the subject." Edward smoothed his tie. He wasn't painting a true picture of Magato; the fellow made his opinion of 'that bitch scientist' quite clear. But he was pointing Rorschach to a new, harmless lead.

"She must have trained him, in some manner, if she expects a certain behavior. Why haven't you talked to her?"

Smile. Just one more time.

Edited 2009-05-27 22:55 (UTC)

He listened intently, paying no mind to the television. What Eddie was saying might have led someone else on, but Rorschach had indeed talked to Einstellsehn. In a way. More like, with the help of others, he'd been led some insight into where exactly their relationship stood, or at least a part of it. Anyone with ears could have heard their conversation clearly over the initial post, even without the help.

Edward thought him a fool. Big mistake.

"Lying." After this came Rorschach's hand, snatching Eddie's collar and yanking him off the seat, throwing him to the floor. Picked him back up and dragged him below eye level, his face's pattern shifting rapidly into some pointy, daunting mess.

"Bad."

"Stop." The tone was cold and steely, commanding rather than whimpering. Eddie made his second mistake of the evening, after underestimating Rorschach. He dropped his facade, for a just a second, but he dropped it.

"Just--please, stop." The Riddler gazed downwards, feigning submission. Staring down his nose to hide any intent lingering in his eyes. "This is not necessary. We're drawing attention."

He didn't bother to struggle. Why deprive Rorschach the pleasure of touching him again? Such a thought lend a dark smirk to Eddie's lips.

"Don't want to draw attention. Hehn," Rorschach replied, not keen on listening to him. Instead he heaved the thin body upward and shoved it toward the nearest wall, following like a persistent shadow.

The more attention, the better. The vigilante was quite sure Eddie was hiding something, even moreso now. Any way he could ruin his plan, even in the smallest amount, he'd attempt. It was only right.

"Want truth. Now."

Edward saw them before Rorschach could; two impressively muscled bouncers zeroing in from opposite flanks. Both had Rorschach as their target. Eddie cleared his throat and straightened his blazer; sure he'd be horribly bruised in the morning. But really. This was worth it.

"Gentlemen," cooed the Riddler. "Are you here to escort this man out?" Rhetorical questions were amusing to him. But more than that, they often served as distractions. And as Rorschach wasn't reverting to spewing the typical names that those underestimating fools did, Edward could tell he had a problem here.

And he really needed a distraction.

Bouncers. Likely not experienced in years of street fights and slaughter, just men who spent a lot of time at the gym and talked tough. Nothing. Rorschach turned around, slowly, distancing himself a bit from the two of them. Both were twice his size. Not a problem.

Ignoring Eddie for the moment, figuring he'd be able to catch up easily should he attempt to slip away, Rorschach focused on the nearest bouncer - coming at him, reaching out with those veiny atrocities of sinew that were his arms - Rorschach retaliated with an instant kick to the kneecap, splaying it backward. And, as predicted, the bouncer screeched like all the others and bent down to scrabble at his ruined knee, giving Rorschach the perfect opportunity to land a roundhouse kick to his skull.

And the other one was on him, managing to tackle him nearly to the floor as the vigilante flailed out of his grip, landing punch after punch aimed at his temple, attempting to struggle free. Toward Eddie. Like something arisen from the Black Lagoon.

It wasn't enough for Eddie to distance himself from Rorschach. Oh, no. Edward had lured the masked man here for a reason and he was damned certain he'd fulfill it. He had seen the other man in action before; that former night of theirs at the Styx was revealing. Very revealing. He knew Rorschach wouldn't waste much time with the muscle, so he had to position himself aptly and quickly.

In front of the televisions by the bar, where the sound was better. And the set was showcasing the news. Lovely. Perfect placing.

Edward bolted in that direction.

Worming his way out of the other bouncer's grip with a final deck to that sensitive part of the head, knocking him out. Other patrons of the bar had at first looked as though they were going to jump in, but now spread out. Away. Rorschach forced himself upward and stormed after Eddie, assuming he was trying to escape.

Eddie glanced at the time. 4:59. The five o'clock news would be airing within sixty seconds. Eddie glanced back at the crusading force on his tail and pressed his back against a situated bar stool, as if cowering rather than stalling.

Perhaps stooling would be a better term, thought Edward. He had his precious little pigeon about to peck his eyes out, as it were. Pigeonstooling.

The news flickered on, exhibiting the newest breaking story of the City. An assassination attempt, imagine that.

Poor Norman, thought Eddie as he heard the news anchor's voice penetrate his ears. Must've been such a shock.

All ready to threaten Edward some more, Rorschach took notice of the audible silence, being filled by the sudden news. Everyone seemed to be watching - not him, not the other man, but the television. He looked up.

Said nothing.

Then glanced back over at Edward.

Staring.

Eddie had turned his head to the screen, like everyone else. He gaped in shock, like everyone else. His features were etched with dismay and disbelief. Like. Everyone. Else.

But on the inside? Within the secret depths of himself?

He was bloody cackling.

Rorschach did not look back at the screen for a moment, studying Eddie instead. Suspicious as always.

When he did, though, he kept his eyes on it only lightly, the other detective clear in his peripheral.

The anchor, a middle aged man in fit shape who was a loyal customer of Rogaine, spoke sternly into the cameras. On his upper right corner was a small box of footage, currently paused, reeking of destruction. The screen flickered to a picture of Norman Osborn, and under his name read:

ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT ON CITY HERO.

Which, to be fair, was a little funny. Oh media, never will you disappoint. Edward kept his thoughts away from his facial expression, which was still pale and shocked and innocent.

The bartender seemed to reclaim his wits first, as the rest of the bar held its hushed tone. He slowly reached for his cell phone, from pocket, with the intent to call the police on Rorschach.

It seemed a commotion was going on at the moment. Distracting. Rorschach glanced over at the bartender's sudden movement, discerning that he was about to call someone on one of those high-tech phones they had in this universe.

"No need," he growled, before turning back to Edward, returning his hands to his pockets. Gave him a look. Surely he could figure out what it meant - Rorschach would be back. And he'd keep coming back until he figured out what, exactly, Eddie had up his sleeve.

The vigilante could leave the bar on his own, and he did so, clearing a path as he made his way to the door.

Edited 2009-05-28 01:25 (UTC)

Eddie lifted his chin in defiance, watching Rorschach retreat. The man was still a problem. But he had given his first impressions of the Osborn assassination attempt, and perhaps that was enough to keep Rorschach from interfering until more... Definite measures could be taken.

After all, if the other man immediately connected Eddie as the mastermind behind today's attack, Edward wouldn't currently be breathing. And that was all the evidence he needed. For now.

Let Rorschach come at him. Eddie wasn't planning to play the victim anymore.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Only two backbones and thousands of ribs.

everyone in this bar is going to die

everyone straight in this bar?

EVERYONE PERIOD

EVEN THE YOUNG CHILD I MAY WRITE IN FOR GUILT FACTOR?

WHY IS A YOUNG CHILD AT A GAY BAR..............

BECAUSE IT CROSSED THE ROAD.

THAT IS ONE HIDEOUS ROAD

IT'S............... ROCKY ROAD.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

FINALLY THIS ICON IS PERFECT FOR SOMETHING

nice glasses

Thanks they are great for replacing masks and pretending it's the same thing.

stylin

ENDING NOTES