Dr. Young sighed and made her way through the narrow halls of Intensive Treatment, her pace businesslike and a slightly unimpressed expression adorning her young face. On either side of her were two armed guards, bigger than herself and holding their rifles to their chests in an authoritative fashion. She was holding an old, faded clipboard and she flipped the first page to reveal a second one, her eyes darting across the page quickly. She blocked out the noise that surrounded her; the wailing, screaming, maniacal laughter, sobbing, scratching and scuffling that was typical of most of the patients. Spending so much time in the area had hardened her exterior and she maintained a reputation of being potentially caring, yet stern and wasn't one to beat around the bush.

A few more minutes of walking led her to the end of the narrow hallway where she stopped in front of a pair of electric fences. She knew better than to touch the fences; they were primarily used to keep inmates where they were supposed to be. A couple of years of breakouts and new technology allowed the doctors to insert them. She turned to her left to punch the code in faster than the human eye could catch. A beep followed by the sounds of fading currents of electricity, and the gate was down. She continued on her way, eyeing her destination that was in the following room.

There were four bigger cells than the ones in the Penitentiary, two on each wall. These were the ones that they occasionally put people in when they were just brought in - mostly the ones that could be potentially dangerous. Currently three of the cells were unoccupied and looked very dilapidated, with overturned beds and broken tiles chipping off the walls. However, as she approached the fourth cell across the room, she could immediately tell that this one was indeed occupied, and by a peculiar sort. She stopped at the bars that separated her from the patient inside and she quirked a dark eyebrow curiously at the sight that beheld her; not once had she ever looked in the cells when passing them by to go to other places. Of course, she usually went to the cells of the patients, so she thought it strange that she had never noticed before now; she didn't trust most patients in her office, especially not right off the bat.

This cell was, as far as regularity went, as normal as the rest of the cells, as there were yellowing tiles that flaked off the cracked walls in plates and the brown, sticky, unmentionable fluid that crept down through invisible pores in the ceiling. The floor was littered with crumpled, dirty pieces of paper and layered in miniature stacks in the corners, each with furious scribbling as if someone were in a hurry to get something written down. There were trace amounts of dried blood on the floor, but the bed was neatly made. However, what caught her eye were the many green question marks scrawled on the walls in a wet liquid that left splotches on the hard makeshift canvas. They ranged in size from large to small and didn't seem to be arranged in any particular order. Young tilted her head. She saw something move out of the corner of her eye for a brief instance, but she ignored it. She examined the question marks for a good couple of minutes before a face suddenly appeared before her. She took a step back, startled at the newcomer.

As soon as she stepped back, he straightened his posture and looked down at her, several inches taller than her. He had a thin frame, somewhat gaunt and lanky but still attractive. Young looked up at his face and saw a pair of clear blue eyes looking at her through the bars of the cell and the rectangular glasses that slipped down the bridge of his slightly crooked nose. He had a somewhat angular face but the features weren't too sharp. Somewhat messy brown hair hung around his eyes and he had a sly, casual grin with traces of five o'clock shadow. He looked very suave, yet had a hidden potential to use cleverness to get his way.

"Good day, Dr. Young," He said finally in a calm, smooth voice. Young blinked once before turning her head and nodding at the guards. They nodded in response and positioned themselves on either side of the cell door, their rifles held tightly to their chests. The slightest agitation in their hands could be seen as they pressured the trigger.

Young looked down and examined the notes left by the other doctors; very compulsive, very intelligent, very clever, and very vain. She glanced back up at his handsome face, eyeing him suspiciously for a moment before nodding for one of the guards leaned over and opened the cell door for her, holding it open just wide enough for her to shimmy through the opening. She carefully made her way in and the patient took a few steps back casually. He retreated and sat down on his bed, crossing his legs at the ankles and looking quite graceful despite the crumbling cell that surrounded them. He intertwined his fingers and looked over at Young with a laid-back expression.

Young's eyes danced around the cell briefly, looking for a place to sit. When there didn't seem to be anything, she looked to the guards and one of them nodded and left. While he was gone, no words were exchanged, as both patient and doctor knew that anything not recorded was worth left unsaid. However, this was a perfect opportunity for Young to examine her patient closer. Noticing the tips of his bony fingers, she saw faded green ink and she presumed it was he who drew the question marks all over the cell. She also peered down at the papers that littered the floor and saw that it was indeed writing, though the words were all barely legible and repetitious: Riddle me this. Riddle me this. Riddle me this. She inhaled quietly and repositioned her eyes to fixate on the face of the man that sat before her, his blue eyes never leaving her figure. He had the same calm grin on her face.

A few awkward minutes in silence passed before the guard returned carrying a brittle-looking plastic chair. He opened the doors and placed the chair inside cautiously, the only sounds being the scrape of the metal chair legs on the hard concrete floor. The man's eyes flickered mischievously at the open door for a moment before snapping back to Young, who stared at the guard as he put the chair down. He retreated from the cell and shut the door behind him. Young took her seat and pulled a voice recorder out of her front pocket on her long white lab coat.

"Patient interview number 21," She broke the awkward silence as she read the names off the paper. "Patient's name is Edward Nigma, also known as the Riddler," She said with a perky, yet exact voice. He nodded when she said both of his titles with an authoritative air about them, as if he knew exactly what was happening and that everyone around him should acknowledge this inconceivable fact. "So, Edward…" She looked up from the paper-laden clipboard on her crossed legs and into his clear blue eyes. He slowly gazed back at her and his smile faltered ever-so-slightly. "Warden Sharp tells me you've been leaving threatening messages scrawled on the Asylum walls… again." She added the last part quietly, as if unsure whether she wanted to share this information with him. He leaned back slightly and shifted his position to rest one ankle on his other knee.

"One would have to be severely paranoid to read threats into harmless riddles, Dr. Young," He said after a brief pause. His voice was smooth and very sure, every word seeming to roll off his tongue almost as if he had planned what he was going to say hours in advance. It was a suave tone, with slight cockiness hidden in the syllables. She had no reaction; she predicted that he would behave as such against an accusation like that. "May I test you with one?" He asked somewhat out of the blue. She quirked an eyebrow and shifted slightly and in an uncomfortable fashion. Her gaze remained nonplussed, however.

"Very well," She said after a short moment of hesitation. Truth be told, she was a bit interested in what he considered to be a riddle, much less a good one. She leaned forward slightly, gazing at him through serious brown eyes.

"What is it that walks on four legs, then two legs, and finally three legs?" He inquired simply. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"A human being," She said without a thought; that was one of the oldest riddles in the book. "As a baby it crawls on four legs, as an adult, it walks on two, and in later years, it uses a cane." She explained with a somewhat blatant obviousness that the riddle wasn't difficult at all and that she was rather unamused at being asked such a trivial thing. She smiled and crossed her arms after her short explanation, but her grin slid off her face when he only chuckled slyly in return.

"Good try, but the answer to all three is a baby," He corrected her. "True it crawls around on all fours, but cut off it's legs and it can only wiggle on two limbs," He leaned forward and pointed to her with two fingers shaped like a gun with his clasped hands. "Give it a crutch, and it can hobble around on three," He finished, then tapping a finger on one of his temples. "You see?" All the while, she sat there in disgust; as soon as he said this, she realized why he was in intensive treatment.

"That's horrible," She reprimanded him sternly, straightening her back with disapproval. "How can you even joke about that?" She demanded, quite unsure about how he could tell her so calmly and explain it as if the answer were obviously not what she had expected.

"Easily doctor," He said smoothly, leaning back once more and placing his hands behind his head in a relaxed fashion. "It's not my baby," He said with a sudden darkness in his voice, a dangerous, venomous tone that immediately told her that this session was over. Young reached into her pocket and stopped the recorder. She stood up abruptly, trying to hide the mingled emotions that almost overtook her mind. She motioned at the guards and they opened the doors of the cell, one of them going in to retrieve the chair while Young hurried out of the questioning cell. All the while, Nigma remained in the nonchalant position, smiling and following Young's movements with his tricky blue eyes.

"Have a good one, doctor," He cooed after her as the cell door shut behind the guard holding the chair. She didn't respond and hastily added notes to the clipboard, furrowing her brow in irritation and concern.