Murder

"Of the 30 million people in Gotham City, 5 million have directly or indirectly participated in first-degree murder."

The Riddler's voice echoed in the hidden safe house, his secret lair deep within Gotham's underbelly.

The room was set up like a typical study. Killer Croc, lounging on the sofa, pulled a copy of Kant's "Critique of Pure Reason" from a nearby bookshelf. After flipping through a few pages, he realized he couldn't comprehend a single word and angrily tossed it to the floor.

The Ventriloquist calmly picked it up and returned it to its place.

"Approximately 15 million have committed crimes in the past, and the remaining 10 million who haven't aren't good citizens, but rather, the concealed elite – gamblers and those working in the red-light district."

The Riddler's voice continued, bouncing off the walls. Jim Gordon sat bound to a chair, blindfolded, and gagged.

"And the reason they haven't joined the criminal ranks isn't due to any noble traits, but because they haven't been pushed to the brink of desperation."

The image on the TV flickered to life. The Riddler confirmed it was a live broadcast. Batman was there, just as he had planned. He went on:

"Do you understand? There are no good people in Gotham. The only ones who could be considered 'good' are the addicts and gamblers, for they harm no one but themselves."

"I'm so tired, year after year, day after day. Living in this cesspool, constantly committing crimes."

"If committing crimes is so tiring, why not stop?" Scarface interjected, "Can you even stop?"

"No, you don't understand at all."

The Riddler stood up, a nervous energy radiating from him. He climbed onto the sofa and crouched down, hugging his knees like a lonely, helpless child.

"This is a war. If we give up crime because we're tired, then he wins... Batman wins."

"So what? Can't we live without committing crimes?"

Killer Croc found a bag of potato chips, ripped it open, and shoved a handful into his mouth.

"No, it's not about that. Even if Batman wins, I don't lose."

Killer Croc thought he was losing his mind.

He knew riddles were the Riddler's forte, just like the hot dog vendor at the park had his secret recipe. But this riddle was unlike any he had ever heard, at least not from the Riddler.

The Riddler, increasingly agitated, hugged his knees tighter, resembling a small boy seeking refuge during a thunderstorm.

"You don't understand, I'm not just me. I don't represent myself anymore."

The Riddler paced, his voice rising with each step. "I'm naturally drawn to those like me, just as bats always attract others of their kind. Just like you, Killer Croc, you've always attracted every brute in Gotham with a heart as savage as yours."

"That's how you garner so much support, how you easily amass an army utterly loyal to you."

"You are their king. The purely animalistic criminals follow you, just as the highly intelligent ones flock to me, the desperate laughter-starved gather around the Joker, and the fearful cling to the Scarecrow."

"We, the so-called supervillains, we are their pillars of inspiration. Bats is right, most criminals are superstitious and easily led..."

The Riddler continued, his voice taking on a feverish pitch:

"We share the same traits as them, but we are far stronger, so they are easily swayed by us."

"We no longer represent ourselves, but a facet of Gotham's sin. We represent those people, becoming a physical embodiment of that sin."

He stared blankly at the TV screen.

"Killing me is pointless. If you kill me, Tut, Cluemaster, or some other criminal like me will simply take my place. They may not be as strong as me, but they will be the strongest of those remaining, and so on... and so on!"

"We are never unique! So Bats knows full well that killing us won't stop crime. On the contrary, his act of murder would only fuel the fire."

"Every successful crime is a beacon to other criminals. Once that line is crossed, he truly becomes a part of the darkness, and can never truly eradicate it again, you see."

"If Bats were to do that, he would become like us. He would attract other criminals, inspire others to mimic his murderous acts. Then this city of 30 million would descend into a slaughterhouse, rivers of blood and mountains of bones. Because, if we're being honest, everyone is a criminal!"

The Riddler's voice boomed through the room:

"Everyone could kill under the guise of justice, and the law would become meaningless. Bats would never allow that."

"That's fear-mongering," Scarface scoffed. "Supervillains are different."

"What makes me so different?" the Riddler retorted.

"Before us freaks, there was Falcone, and before him, Gotham had the Lion, and before that, the four major families, and before that, and before that... I'm just a puppet of Gotham's sin, a marionette. It doesn't matter if this puppet is called Riddler or Edward Nygma."

"Just like the Joker. He's died so many times, how can you say he's still the same Joker?"

"We saw him disappear in that explosion with our own eyes, then he returned months later. Fell into the river, vanished, and returned again months later. He keeps coming back, he can be banished but never truly killed! Gotham only needs a madman who can grin from ear to ear, does the name of that madman even matter?"

"He beats me again and again, and our game will never end until one of us can't take it anymore and falls. Bats is trying to redeem this entire city on his own! You don't understand how absurd that is. He can't be beaten, never wavers, never needs rest. He's brilliant, his will is ironclad, like a god walking among us!"

The Riddler's voice grew louder, his arms flailing as he stood.

"It's not logical, it's impossible! How can such a person exist?"

"You don't understand the utter despair of facing such an adversary!"

"No matter how hard you fight, you're sent back to Arkham. It's beyond disheartening!"

He collapsed back onto the sofa.

"Death might be a mercy for me. That way, I wouldn't have to worry about my own failures or the sins of Gotham. I can't stop committing crimes anymore."

"It's not just my mental illness. No matter what I decide, no matter what I plan to do besides crime, Gotham's sin pulls me back like invisible hands. It enslaves me! It holds me captive!"

"No matter how I scream and struggle, it forces me to use those damn riddles, to bare my fangs at the son of Gotham, born in darkness yet betraying it! I am the dragon meant to be slain by the knight, but I am also a slave to the darkness!"

"Only death can bring me peace. But Batman won't even grant me that final solace. He won't even kill the Joker! You see, Batman is a vengeful crusader, but his vengeance isn't directed at me, or Two-Face, or the Joker! It's against the very sin of Gotham City! He wants to end not the criminals, but crime itself!"

"But sin and crime can never be eradicated. As long as humans exist in this world, sin and crime will never cease! Yet he persists! He strives for an impossible goal, torturing himself and everyone else! He's not even human!"

The Riddler seemed to deflate, slumping in the chair as if his bones had turned to jelly.

"I'm tired, so very tired."

He murmured, his voice barely a whisper, "So now, there are no more riddles, no more tests, no more games. It all has to end."

The Riddler snatched up the phone and addressed the Batman on the TV screen: "Batman – now, listen carefully. Kill the Joker!"

He strode over to the whimpering Jim Gordon, pulled out a pistol, and pressed it to his own temple, aligning it with Gordon's.

"No riddles, no clues. I have one demand. Kill the Joker, or Jim Gordon and I will die right here, right now."

"Either kill the Joker and save us, or let him go and watch us die."

"Batman, you hear me. Make your choice. Don't even think about faking a non-lethal stab or shot. I want you to tear the Joker apart. Only when I see him dismembered will I believe he's dead and release Gordon."

"Either your principles, your unbreakable rules, are shattered today, or I am."

"I've decided to use femtosecond laser ablation to execute the Joker. This technology can pulverize matter on a microscopic level. In a sense, the Joker will be reduced to dust."

"Yes, do it now."

The Joker climbed into the crimson cabinet, and soon, the wooden panels fell away, revealing it to be a crystalline coffin.

"Kill him immediately, no matter how!"

But Batman ignored him, walking up and engaging in a hushed conversation with the Joker.

"You killed him, why didn't you... wait."

The Riddler suddenly realized something. He wasn't an idiot. He should have seen this coming.

A figure with pointed ears materialized behind him. The Riddler recognized the voice instantly – Batman.

"You see, I made a mistake. I always believed supervillains like you loved games. I thought your craving for them was insatiable."

"I was foolish, just like you. Look at you, in your own lair, making the same arrogant error as me."

"You assumed I couldn't break my one rule."

"You assumed I was vulnerable and unprepared."

"You assumed my mercy was infinite."

"You assumed I lacked the resolve to deal with the consequences of breaking my no-kill rule."

"You assumed these weren't pre-recorded videos, and that I'm actually talking to the Joker in Wayne Tower right now."

The Riddler tried to move but was instantly tackled by Killer Croc, pinned to the ground and restrained.

"You also assumed the Ventriloquist and Killer Croc weren't working for me."

"—And you assumed Scarface couldn't be Batman in disguise."

Click!

The Riddler pulled the trigger, but no bullet fired. Though he had anticipated this outcome.

"You even assumed I hadn't secretly swapped out the bullets in your gun."

"Why do you underestimate me so much, Edward Nygma? Why do you assume you're the only one who can break the rules?"

The Riddler turned his head, a bitter smile on his face.

"So, the Joker wasn't killed? You tricked me?"

"Nigma, Nigma... you're still so arrogant."

"Guess, Edward – we've only met once, but you'll never forget me after this. Who am I?"

"And remember, what I'm about to say isn't a metaphor, or rhetoric, or a theory, or anything else."

The Riddler heard Batman say:

"The Joker has been killed. By me."