The Doctor Is In

The Riddler's Reform

   I jump a little ahead of Robin and the doctors in order to change my appearance. Reaching the exit of the catacombs, I throw off my Trickstress outfit and put on an Arkham Asylum uniform  and long brown-haired wig left for me on the steps. I have no idea where this came from, but  I don’t exactly have time to question that right now. Concealing my previous outfit, I huddle myself in a corner, trying to look shocked and scared.

When the doctors reach the entrance, they run and hug me, “Oh, thank goodness you’re alright Dr. K.”

I nod, smiling, “It’s great to know you guys are okay too. What did he do to you?”

“We’d ask you the same thing.” Dr. Whistler replies, “He tied us up in his dungeon, so I couldn’t imagine what he did to you.”

I pause, thinking of something believable, “He...forced me to work as one of his dancers in his nightclub.”

They nod understandably, and we continue to leave the Iceberg Lounge. We escape practically unchallenged, which seems odd for Ozzy. Shouldn’t he at least have some guards around?

Outside, it’s early morning in Gotham City, but the sun is no where to be found, completely hidden in a thick blanket of dark clouds.

“I’m not as good with the whole disappearing act as Batman but, this is where I leave you ladies.” he waves.

Dr. Leland and Whistler both wave to him, and I approach him, “Thank you Robin.” I hug him unabashedly. It must have been him who’d left me the uniform, so he must also know my secret identity.

My heart races as his head leans down and nuzzles into my hair. Okay, so he does know, but while he certainly isn’t child Robin, I’m not looking to start anything right now. I back off, smiling as he shoots up his grappling hook and it takes him off into the early morning sky.

   The guards welcome us back to the asylum with applause. Of course right after what should’ve been a traumatic experience for the doctors, the first place they head to is right back to work, these kinds of things are just too common in Gotham to really take seriously anymore. I sit in my room at Arkham Manor, catching a break before heading back to my first day of work. I put my Trickstress costume back into the hidden sleeve of my suitcase, along with my daggers. Hopefully I’ll never have to bring those things out again, but then again, I know that’s sort of inevitable, why else would I keep it around?

As I sit down on the bed, there’s a slight rustling in one of my pockets. I reach in and find a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, I gasp as I see it’s a black and white picture of me and Ozzy in front of Angelo’s, just after we’d bought it, Ozzy’s arm around my shoulder, me in his mother’s dress that she’d given to me. He’s still young here, still retaining jet black hair and a thin figure. There’s some writing on the back and I flip it over,

You’ll always be the light in my life, but our lives were never meant to be intertwined as I’d hoped. Now be free my bird, be free.

I place the picture on my dresser as I hear a knock on the door. I open it to see an unmasked Edward Nigma standing in a doctor’s lab coat.

“Mr. Nigma, what’re you doing here?!  Get back to your cell right now before I call security!” I demand furiously.

“Doctor, please, you misunderstand. I’m a changed man, reformed, shall we say.” he explains calmly, smiling in satisfaction.

I narrow my eyes in suspicion, “Then what are you doing here at the asylum?”

“Why, I’m a consultant to you, and the other doctors as well. A criminal specialist, someone who knows these people inside and out.”

True, someone like him would know the inner workings of many of the patients here, having worked with many of them himself. But Mr. Nigma has tried going straight before, and they have all ended terribly. The time where he tried becoming a toy-maker comes to mind.

He adjusts his purple-tinted glasses, and I notice he’s dyed his hair black from the brown it was before, and he still has his fingerless green gloves under the sleeves of his lab coat. Of course even while “reformed” he keeps some elements of his signature costume, old habits die hard.

“Well. shall we be off?” he asks, smiling, “The other doctors are probably waiting for us. We wouldn’t want to disappoint them.”

I nod politely, leaving the room as Mr. Nigma closes the door.

   “Who the hell thought it was a good idea to hire this lunatic?!” Dr. Whistler angrily whispers to us while  Mr. Nigma keeps to the back.

“Asylum administration must’ve hired him while we were gone.” Dr. Leland figures, “Besides, we could use more help. Even with the three of us, we’re stretched thin among the patients-”

“But he’s not even a real doctor!” she spits, “And what exactly is he going to consult us on?! I find this highly offensive.”

“I can hear you two, you know.” Mr. Nigma comments from the back, looking up from his clipboard.

Dr. Whistler sighs, “Ugh, I don’t know what’s worst, him as a patient, or him as a co worker.” she straightens herself, maintaining a more professional appearance, “Anyway, Dr. K, would you be willing to handle a patient in Intensive Treatment today?”

My ears perk up. Intensive Treatment? Yes, this is exactly what I’ve been wanting this entire time, a good challenge. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, having Ozzy kidnap me.

“Of course I would.” I reply, trying not to sound too excited.

She holds her head with her left hand, “Wonderful. This patient is...well, I’m not exactly in the mood to be handling her right now. Strangely, she asked for you specifically.”

She did? I run my head through the list of Gotham’s criminals that I know and who would also know my secret identity, and my list comes up blank. Only Ozzy knows my secret identity, so unless he told it to someone else…

I part with Dr. Whistler and Leland as I head over to Intensive Treatment. Mr. Nigma however, follows me to the entrance. I notice all the security guards giving him suspicious looks as he shows them his identification card. Hey, if I was in their position, I’d do the same.

We say nothing to each other as we head to the elevator that will take us down into the main cell of Intensive Treatment. Mr. Nigma is being unusually quiet, right up to the moment the elevator doors close,

“So doctor, have you thought about what I'd said to you the last time we met?” he asks.

Technically, the last time we’d met I was Trickstress, and he had no idea it was me he was talking to. But the last time I’d talked to him as Dr.K, he’d ambly flirted with me in order to avoid any psychological process.

“I haven’t really had time to honestly. As you may recall, I was a little wrapped up.”

“Ah, yes, Cobblepot. That lunatic needs to wake up and realize that that girl has been using him.” he comments, both of his hands in front of him.

“You mean Trickstress?” I ask.

He nods, “Like the name suggests, she’s a manipulator, someone who takes what she needs and then leaves. She was never interested in him, not really.”

I feel a pang of pain in my heart. If only that were true...at least I wouldn’t feel terrible about the things I’ve done.

“So...who’s the lucky patient you’re going to interview?” he asks arching his eyebrow at me.

“Why do you want to know?” I counter.

“Because, I’m suppose to observe your interview, is why.” he explains, “I’d just like a little insight into whom I’m going to be looking at.”

I pause, “...Ms. Harleen Quinzel.”

He chuckles, “Oh ho ho...you’ve got your work cut out for you, haven’t you doctor? May I suggest bringing in an axe?”