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“Master Bruce, perhaps you have considered this before, but the situation with Mr. Edward Nygma… well—“ Alfred hesitated, knowing that he was encroaching upon dangerous territory with the subject.
“What is it, Alfred?”
“I was wondering, sir, if you might have thought about winning him over.”
Bruce snorted contemptuously, though his muscles went visibly tense. "He may be brilliant, but he's entirely lost his mind!"
Alfred stepped behind the younger man and tried to ignore his worrying rear view. Though Bruce was fitted with a number of new high-tech suit additions, several bruises still splotched his muscular bare back. Some older ones had already begun to yellow, the others blooming like dark roses in a fresh purple color across his skin. Scars snaked between them, fine lines of shimmering silver on the pale skin.
Alfred smiled bitterly and looked away. “Haven't we all, Master Bruce?”
He hadn’t expected Bruce to want an open discussion. He knew it was an extremely sensitive topic for the man, at least at this point. His adversary Edward Nygma had become a point of contention in the last few weeks. Again and again he fooled Batman, and thus Alfred as well, making a grand spectacle out of sabotaging their work, or at least making it more difficult for them. Alfred had watched with growing concern how Nygma upset Bruce more and more with his games.
They had first believed Batman was merely a nice little gimmick for Nygma to temporarily latch onto. After all, he had never legitimately tried to hunt Batman down. But they had been wrong. Nygma’s interest in the Dark Knight seemed, on the contrary, to be growing steadily. With every new puzzle, every new challenge created for Batman to solve, his zeal and enthusiasm became more and more evident. Alfred didn’t want Nygma’s interest in the Dark Knight to become an outright obsession. Not now. If it ever did, Batman could find himself in serious trouble. It was yet another reason Alfred had decided to bring up the subject again, even if it hardly promised success.
At the very least, Alfred had achieved what he had intended: Bruce was thinking about it.
And it was only natural that Bruce would think about it. He was constantly forced to think about who would succeed Alfred’s position. He knew he could never make it alone as Batman. Just a few years prior, when the internet hadn’t yet connected the world, criminals might have just been gangsters or men with muscles and guns. He could have dealt with them on his own. Now, though, he had far more to fight than crooks who made shady deals. There was cybercrime now. Deals were hardly ever made in closed-off dark alleys— they were formed over the Internet. Digital networks had long since replaced fully automatic rifles and bombs as the most dangerous weapons.
If he wanted to continue crime-fighting in the future, he needed someone who knew all about those things. Alfred was good, but he wouldn’t always be there; his face reminded him of that every day. He was getting old, exhausted. He would disappear into town every now and then, and Bruce was almost certain he was going to the hospital for treatment of some kind. They didn’t talk about it, but it was obvious that Alfred was sick. Bruce had long since relieved the man of his butlering duties, but he needed him when he was out on patrol. He needed him in the bat cave on the computer, he needed him in his ear. Alfred pulled the strings. He was the man behind the man, he was what made the Dark Knight so strong.
Bruce growled and put on the new breastplate Lucius had designed for him. He smiled grimly. The tank sat perfectly and offered even more protection thanks to the double reinforcement. Alfred had furiously pushed for the innovation after Bruce had taken three semi-automatic shots to the chest. What was Bruce even supposed to do without him? How could he even continue this when Alfred was no longer there? He could never do it alone, and didn’t want to, either. He doubted he could muster the strength for it by himself. All too often he had the feeling that, like Heracles fighting the Hydra, he was fighting a hopeless battle against evil. If he cut off one of their numerous heads, two new ones immediately grew out of the neck. In precisely these times, times when he almost lost faith and courage in the cause, Alfred was there to help him up again.
To even consider that Edward Nygma might take Alfred’s place? Inconceivable! He was an unhinged lunatic who had gotten onto his last nerve. Sure, Bruce knew what Alfred was trying to say— in the whole of Gotham City, there was likely no one more suited to the task than the former GCPD cybercrime expert. Nygma had managed to take over half the city with just a few clever keyboard shortcuts. Not even Batman had been able to put an end to his chaos. He had occasionally managed to end a few of his games across the city, or at least disturb them, but he hadn't even been able to find the other man in the flesh until today. He had stopped counting how many supposed “hideouts” of Nygma’s he had invaded, only to discover he had been fooled yet again. He was just another pawn on the playing field to Edward Nygma, and it drove Bruce crazy. The last time he had ravaged the whole of the supposed quarters in a fit of blind rage, dismantling and destroying all computers and screens, even tables and chairs, just because Nygma had managed to pull the wool over his eyes yet again. And what had Nygma done? He had laughed at Batman, seemingly enjoying his misfortune.
Bruce had to take a deep breath in order to relax and put on his arm guards. That was another problem: despite Alfred’s efforts to encrypt the Batcomputer and his headset in order to lock Nygma out, he had repeatedly managed to hack into his radio, forcing Batman to listen to Nygma’s malicious comments during his unsuccessful raids on top of everything else. Seldom was there anything useful in the man’s words. Mostly he just congratulated Batman on his new defeat and advised him to finally hang up his cloak. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
While he was reminiscing, Alfred had reappeared in the Batcave. He seemed surprised. “Are you going out again tonight, sir?”
“I’ll take care of the last radio tower.”
Alfred frowned, taking the mask and handing it to Bruce. “But sir, didn’t we want to wait until—“
Bruce spun around and glared at the older man. “I'm sick of waiting! Something has to happen, better today than tomorrow!” His voice echoed through the cave, amplified several times by the voice distortion in the collar of his batsuit. Alfred looked at him reproachfully and Bruce instantly felt guilt wash over him. Ashamed, he bowed his head in apology and picked up the mask.
"I assume you have a plan?"
"I have one," Bruce said, holding out the small circuit board that Fox had finally finished for Alfred.
Alfred took the shiny metal piece and allowed himself a small smile. "I see, sir."
The Dark Knight knew that Nygma would hack into his radio as soon as he neared the radio tower, exactly as planned. The circuit board built into his headset would then, if it worked properly, emit a mirror signal, which in turn would reveal Nygma's position without the man even noticing. The only disadvantage was that this receiver could only receive signals on the shortwave frequency, meaning Nygma had to be nearby. However, if he used a different type of radio, it would be impossible to trace the signal back to its original location. Nygma could redirect any other type of conventional radio wave through countless transponders, so it would be near impossible to trace the signal, much less in a timely manner.
Though, something told the Dark Knight Nygma wouldn't do that. He was someone who never took the obvious route forward. Perhaps the game seemed too boring to him when he did. He always gave his opponents a chance to win— or at least he liked to pretend he did. If Nygma used the shortwave signal, it was either a trap and he wanted Batman to track him down sooner or later, or he didn't expect anyone to master such a tracing technique without his knowledge. Either way, Bruce Wayne was counting on anything when he spotted the bowery far below and hit the eject button. In a single motion he dived towards the ground. For a brief, pleasant moment, he felt only the sensations of the fall, not the anger that Edward Nygma seemed to breed in him.
At the last possible second, he spread his arms and caught himself. His cape puffed out and he slid silently over the snow-covered roofs of Gotham.
Immediately there was a beep in his ear and he heard Alfred's voice. “Sir, the program is ready. It should start as soon as it receives a radio signal. If everything goes as planned, I'll add the coordinates to your navigation. "
The Dark Knight tucked his arms in and picked up speed. “Alfred, I can see the tower right in front of me. Be ready. "
The large illuminated letters on the radio tower blinked bright red on against the moonless black winter night. It couldn't be missed. As he drew in closer, Batman could make out about half a dozen armed guards huddled in front of the tower's metal security door. That was to be expected. He grabbed the first man in a dive before moving on to make short work of the others. The new armor did what it promised. Using such simple weapons it was now almost impossible to cause him any serious harm. A few seconds later, unconscious, they were scattered around him in the snow. Batman stood eyeing the iron door with the large yellow warning sign on it. He knew that when he touched its surface, Nygma would intervene.
He clenched his fists as he walked towards it. ‘Come on, you bastard,’ he thought angrily. ‘This time you’ll fall into my trap, I swear that to you.’ And indeed he did. When he touched the metal handle of the door, there was a sudden crackling in the Dark Knight's ear.
Nygma's voice was as usual: annoying and arrogant. "Well, well, well. What’s all this leading up to?"
Batman felt a surge of triumph run through his veins, even if it was perhaps foolish. He ignored Nygma and forced the heavy door open with a brutal jerk. The concrete wall behind it cracked as both surfaces made contact.
Nygma sucked in a playful breath. “Well, you sure showed the door! What's next? Do you really think you can stop me just by turning off my towers? I've tried countless times to make it clear to you that you won't achieve anything with me by force. You can destroy all the towers you want, but it won't do you any good. It still won't stop me. "
Batman's pulse was at 180. Nygma's voice was like a thorn digging into his brain, nasty and stabbing. It brought to the surface a pain, an anger that had simmered inside him for far too long. He finally had to get rid of Nygma. With a blow of his fist he dismantled the relay box. Hacking him with the sequencer would have been enough, but his fist had been faster. With a sad hum the lights of the electrical system died and he stood in the dark.
For a moment there was complete silence, then the crackle in his ear returned. “You see, I'm still here. So taking your frustration out on the console was completely pointless.” Nygma's voice carried contemptuous amusement. “There's only one way to stop me, and you know what it is. You have to find me and kill me. Otherwise, I'll keep picking myself up and finding new ways to drive you crazy! So finally, COME AND GET ME IF YOU CAN, BATMAN!”
At that exact moment, a digital point appeared before the eyes of the Dark Knight. It was the Batcomputer’s projection of the mirror signal. So Alfred had actually managed to locate Nygma's position. Bruce's mouth twisted into a malicious smile.
"I will," he growled, and before Nygma could say anything else, he switched off the headset and darted off the roof into the darkness, following the digital point in front of his eyes.
Nygma almost screamed the last words. He had never done that before. He must have cared more about the radio towers than he had admitted. Of course it was a loss, if only a minor one. Now he was forced to think of something new. To start all over again. He, Batman, had interfered with his plans once again. Nygma must have been fed up with the Dark Knight. And yet he did not give up on him. He could have just hidden from him, looked for another sphere of activity, but he didn’t. On the contrary, Batman felt that he just couldn't help but challenge him. Even if he lost a game, it didn't seem to spoil his desire to mess with him. Sometimes it appeared as if Nygma was disturbingly obsessed with Batman. Which only made him a greater danger for Batman, because Nygma was far smarter than the other criminals he faced. If anyone could seriously harm the Dark Knight, it was him. But apparently he wasn't interested in taking Batman out of circulation. Rather, the Bat seemed to be his favorite toy, one with which he was only too happy to occupy himself.
But Batman didn't feel like playing these games anymore. It had been going on for far too long; this was the last straw. He wasn't Nygma's plaything, and he would make that clear to him tonight. The projected digital point now blinked brighter and brighter, meaning he was approaching the target coordinates. Alfred had to be wondering why he couldn't connect to his headset anymore, but there was no other way. When he and Nygma finally met, he didn't want Alfred there. He couldn't, because for the first time he couldn't guarantee anything. His whole body tingled with unbridled rage. What would he do? Would he beat him to a pulp? Strangle him just to keep his smart mouth shut? He hadn't the faintest idea, but one thing he was now painfully aware of: he hadn't felt this alive in a long time.
He spotted the house amongst a long line of monotonous facades. No guards. In fact, one to be seen anywhere nearby. The Batcomputer also didn’t register any defense mechanisms. Was Nygma that certain no one would find him here? Or was he not here at all? In principle, it was the perfect disguise. It would never occur to anyone that there was a supervillain hiding behind these ordinary walls.
There were plenty of windows, but Batman chose the door. The house appeared to be deserted from the outside. The mailbox was broken off its hinges, and it was dark behind the dirty windows. That didn't mean anything, really, because Nygma could simply use the rooms with windows facing the backyard. In any case, the Dark Knight was prepared for anything. With a hefty slam of his shoulder, he gained entry and slid silently down the dark hallway.
Something in him knew with certainty that Nygma was here.
He had to expect it to be a trap, but somehow he no longer believed it. At the end of the long corridor, he finally saw a faint greenish glow. It seeped through the semi-translucent glass of the door. He crept up to it and listened. Busy clicking noises could be heard behind it, as if someone were pounding wildly on a keyboard. Then he heard the voice he so detested. “I don't care if you don't want to or can't! You’ll do what I tell you. Otherwise your boss will find out that you—“
That was enough! Without thinking about it for a second longer, Batman pushed the door open. The pane of glass shattered into a thousand pieces. On the opposite wall of the room, a man sat hunched over at a monstrous desk covered with countless monitors and computers. Startled, he jumped out of his chair and yanked the headset off his head. It was him, unmistakably. Even if Batman only knew him from police photos, this was Edward Nygma. His hair had grown longer and his face looked older, but it definitely was. Batman charged at him furiously, only marginally registering that the large red neon letters of the radio tower were blinking on the monitor behind Nygma's head.
His counterpart immediately recovered. Sheer bewilderment left Nygma's pale face, but even before Batman had even reached him, a small grin pulled at the corners of his mouth as he involuntarily pressed himself against the desk. Batman registered it with fury. But not only that. He stared at Nygma and something else flitted across that narrow face. It was an expression the Dark Knight couldn't quite read.
It was just a brief flicker. Something like… submission. As if Nygma was happy that the game of cat and mouse was finally over. That he had finally been found.
But before Batman could even begin to interpret it, the flicker disappeared and Nygma regained his usual composure. "What a surprise! The Bat.” He chuckled contemptuously. "Of course you just walk in here and—“
Batman grabbed his neck and forcibly shoved him against the edge of the table. “GIVE UP, NYGMA! IT'S OVER,” he shouted, hands clamped around his neck so Nygma was barely able to speak.
Which didn't stop him from trying. He wrapped his slender fingers almost tenderly around Batman's armored wrists. Almost as if he merely wanted to feel it, experience how the material felt. Then he squeezed harder, but he had no chance of loosening Batman’s grip. He croaked, “I'm not giving up. No way. You'll have to kill me if you want me to give up.”
"THE GAME IS OVER!" Batman loomed threateningly in front of him.
“It's never over. I'm just getting started, Batman,” Nygma whispered, and he felt the other man getting angrier.
Batman brutally threw him across the room. Nygma slammed his back against an old dining table and knocked over a chair as he stumbled backwards. He gave a painful groan. In an instant Batman was on him again, grabbing his shoulders. "You’ll stop all your games and straighten out all the messes you’ve made!”
Nygma laughed sarcastically and backed away further, as if he really had a chance to escape Batman. "You're really cute when you're angry, do you know that?"
That tipped him over the edge. Snorting in anger, Batman grabbed his thin arms and pushed him against the iron post of the bed that stood in the other corner of the room. The renewed pain took Nygma's breath away for a moment. He blinked and moisture glistened in his eyes behind his glasses.
But even then, he recovered surprisingly fast. “Do you know what your problem is, Batman? You don't kill. Of course, that makes things difficult for you. What are you going to do with me? How are you going to neutralize me if you don't kill me? You can have me arrested, you can take me to Arkham or Blackgate, but you know I would escape sooner or later and then the whole game would start all over—"
"It almost sounds like you want to die," Batman snarled scornfully.
“You still don't get it, do you? Are you really that simple-minded? "
Batman knew such insults all too well; he was sick of them. They were just oil being poured onto the fire. His hands tightened around Nygma's upper arms like two vices. A little more pressure and he would break them.
Nygma groaned under the painful threat, sneering, but that didn't seem to scare him either. "So much power and you can't do anything with it."
Batman roared again and shook him. "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"
Then there was a moment of silence in the shabby neighborhood. Only the low whirring of the devices could be heard. The sound was almost hypnotic in the dim twilight. Breathing heavily, the Dark Knight fixed the other person in front of him.
Nygma seemed to take a long moment before lifting his head and defying Batman with his steel blue eyes. “I want you to vent your anger. Let it out, come on! Get rid of it once and for all or it will destroy you one day! "
Batman's eyes narrowed to slits. Only then did he notice how thin Nygma was. He seemed almost fragile. No muscles, no physical strength to counter his own. How was it possible that the man wasn't afraid of him? Or at least, he didn't show it to the outside world. No doubt he had watched countless times on his monitors how Batman had disposed of his henchmen without mercy, and quite a few of them were ripe for Gotham General afterwards. But Nygma didn't seem to be afraid of physical pain. Much to the contrary, in fact, it looked like the pain was giving him some kind of relief.
On the other hand, it was most likely that he had simply lost his mind. But whatever the case here, Batman had no idea how to handle him. And that made him all the more angry. He knew he had to get away from this bastard or he wouldn’t be able to guarantee he could hold himself back from crushing Nygma like a pathetic insect. With a couple of routine movements, he forced his back on the mold-stained mattress and tied his wrists to the wrought-iron head of the bed. He did it so quickly that Nygma wouldn't have been able to fight back, even if he had seriously wanted to. The old bed springs groaned in protest under their combined weight.
Nygma immediately pulled against the cuffs, but he had no chance. The thin metal cord would only cut his skin if he kept tugging on it. "That's not the answer to the riddle, my friend," he protested disapprovingly, but Batman thought he saw a glimmer of surprise in his pupils. That, at least, gave him a little bit of satisfaction.
With one leap the Dark Knight was at the door. "Shut up or I'll gag you, Nygma."
Then he scurried down the dark corridor to get outside again. Outside, he pulled himself up onto the eaves with the Batclaw and switched his headset back on. His breath rose to the sky in a warm, damp mist.
“Master Bruce, I was worried! What happened?” Alfred sounded relieved.
“Our plan worked. I found him, Alfred.”
"You don't sound very enthusiastic, sir." It was more of a question than a statement.
Batman gave a dull grumble. "What should I do with him, Alfred?"
“What can we do other than turn him over to the police? I'm sure Gordon will—“
“Alfred! He has his people everywhere. He's got enough incriminating material to blackmail the whole city! He knows people better than they know themselves and more than half of the GCPD is corrupt. It would make no sense. He'd be out sooner than we could take a deep breath. He's not like the others… like Bane, or Killer Croc. He's not so stupid as to let himself be dropped off at Blackgate. We can’t finish this using conventional means.”
There was noise on the line.
"Alfred?"
Batman listened and raised his head to the night sky. The moon had struggled so far through the heavy clouds that it threw its pale white light onto the snow-covered roofs and streets. Freezing wind blew. The Dark Knight took another breath.
"Maybe, sir," Alfred hesitated. "Maybe you should try to win him—“
“Alfred! We've already talked about that.” With a furious leap, Batman swung himself off the gable and landed back on the ledge of the front steps.
“Please, sir. Think about it again. Try to talk to him.”
"I'll be back," Batman said harshly, turning off his headset. He knew that Alfred was right. But how was he supposed to work with someone he couldn't even exist around without brutally attacking him? Just thinking about Edward Nygma made him seeth so much he thought he was going out of his mind. But what was it about this guy that upset him? That Nygma thought he was smarter, which was probably true? Not likely. That he kept thwarting Batman's plans, apparently just for fun? Yes, but it was more than that. That he was cheeky and unspeakably arrogant? That Batman just couldn't understand the motivation for his actions? Certainly. Nygma held all the trump cards in his hand and yet he never seemed to finally play them off. And that's exactly why Batman felt so powerless over Nygma. He felt powerless and Nygma was visibly enjoying tormenting him with his own helplessness.
But now he’d had enough.
This ended tonight. Nobody played him for a fool that way.
The door to Nygma's headquarters clattered open a second time, but Batman noticed the man on the bed didn’t flinch. He tried to ignore it, turning to the computers and gadgets instead. His gloved fist crashed into the central monitor.
Nygma's voice came as usual. Only this time from the other corner of the room instead of through the headset. “Hey, that's expensive tech. Can you be more careful with it, please?” Sheer mockery.
A couple of loose cables had to face their ends when Batman grabbed them and yanked them out of their runs with a violent jerk. Next, Batman turned to the flashing systems and put them out of action with an angry fist. The lights died out, and with them the faint electric hum.
"You know it's pointless, right?" He sounded a bit downtrodden, in the wake of his destroyed toys. “I'm smart enough to keep my most important files in a safe place. And that safe place is so secure that you will never find it, Batman. So keep on destroying my computers! I have enough money to buy new ones anytime. You can't neutralize me like this! You have to get a little more creative!”
Batman tossed the remains of a circuit board in the corner and turned to Nygma. His breathing was heavy with senseless anger.
Even Nygma suddenly seemed nervous and tried to straighten up a bit. The fact that his hands were tied above his head must have made him feel defenseless, but even that feeling didn't seem strong enough to keep him from provoking Batman any further. On the contrary. He grinned crookedly. "What is it? Are you finally ready to punish me for my sins?”
Batman huffed contemptuously, but didn't move an inch.
Nygma seemed unsettled, his silence apparently driving him to take it further. “Come on, Batman. I’ve been a bad boy! Hurry up and punish me!”
Something in Nygma’s phrasing puzzled Batman for a moment. Nygma's words sounded so vulgar, so ambiguous that it left him speechless.
Now Nygma rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "Come on. Unlike you, I don't have forever.”
Batman was on him so quickly that Nygma sucked in a startled breath. "Do you think this is a game?"
His counterpart grinned smugly. “Of course it is, you fool! It's my game, and you play by my rules.”
Batman grabbed his throat. "I could leave you tied up and gagged to rot here in this house.”
"You could," Nygma croaked breathlessly. "But then, in principle, you'd have killed me, so you can't do that."
It was only when Nygma squirmed under Batman that the Dark Knight realized how close they were. Nygma's startlingly clear gaze pierced into his soul, and suddenly, Batman had the terrible feeling that he could really see him. Could know who was hiding under the mask. Who he really was. Bruce Wayne… With one powerful blow, he flipped Nygma onto his stomach and pressed his head into the mattress so that the man could no longer look at him.
His enemy whimpered pitifully beneath him. He tugged at the wire that tied his hands, having twisted painfully tighter.
"You're going to quit, Nygma," Batman's voice boomed in his ear. “You’re going to stop blackmailing people. You're going to destroy your entire database, and—“ he grabbed Nygma's hair and yanked his head back. “—you’re going to finally leave me alone! I don't want to see or hear from you anymore, or I'll—“
"I can't," Nygma gasped.
"WHAT WAS THAT?" Batman yelled, almost beside himself with anger. Still holding Nygma by the hair, he yanked his head back so far that it almost broke his neck.
"I can't— I—" His voice was so breathless that Batman could barely make out what he was saying.
Furious, he let go of Nygma's head. The man immediately writhed under him like an eel. “Don't you get it? Entertaining you is my greatest pleasure. To see how you struggle with my brilliant puzzles. To see how you keep failing but never give up.” Again, Nygma recovered surprisingly fast, despite the brutality brought against him.
“I'm not saying it again. You will leave me alone, or—“
"Get rid of me then!" He tried to get down on his knees, but couldn't because Batman was crouching over him and pushing him back down onto the mattress. "If you want, I'll beg for it." Now he was pulling at his bonds again. A thin trickle of blood ran down his wrist. “Come on, Batman! Let me be your release. Take out your anger on me. Punish me for all the sins I've committed. I’m bad! I deserve it. Finally, do it. I know you want this!”
Batman was about to cover his mouth just so he would finally stop talking. As always, his voice stoked the seething fire that burned inside him. "I will not kill you!"
Nygma sighed heavily. “You’re not meant to kill me, you absolute idiot! You're supposed to fuck me!” His voice broke and cracked on the last few words.
Batman crouched over Nygma, blood rushing thunderously loud in his ears. Pulsating and hot.
"Fuck me! Fuck me until I lose my mind and can’t think about anything else,” begged Nygma, his body bracing itself against the Dark Knight’s.
He nearly repeated the request, but Batman covered his mouth so that the words ebbed away into incomprehensible gibberish under his glove. Nygma fidgeted and gasped, hitting Batman's tense thighs several times with his hips. Then he suddenly bit the gloved fingers of Batman so forcefully that the man reflexively pulled his hand away. He inhaled and immediately found his voice. “Come on, show me how much power you have! Don’t hold back. Take out all your anger on me. I can take it, I can take anything. I know how angry you really are!”
Batman grumbled and pushed his head back onto the mattress.
“You’re angry because you know very well that all your fighting is in vain! Who thanks you for doing all of this? The corrupt cops who help the criminals you put behind bars break out again? The oh-so-innocent citizens of Gotham who are afraid of you?” He laughed bitterly. “How do they show you their thanks? They chase you away! They don't want you, they don't want your help. You do more harm than good! Look at yourself, you can't even put an end to a defenseless criminal like me! We laugh ourselves to death at your expense each time we walk out of prison—“
Batman's rage seared through his veins like horrifically hot lava, heavy and numbing. Nygma had undoubtedly hit his most sensitive spot.
“You have to break your own rules if you are to defeat us. Start with me, do it! Go beyond your own self-imposed limits!” Nygma's ass rubbed provocatively against his hips again. “I'll never leave you alone, Batman! You won’t get rid of me. If you want to break free from me, kill me! Or try to drive out the urge—“
Batman couldn't take it anymore. Again he covered his mouth. He was damn near about to kill Nygma. He couldn't even find the words to argue back. Only the voice of his enemy echoed in his head and it seemed to slit him open from the inside, words razor-sharp and devastatingly true. Oh yes, he could drive it out of him if he wanted. Physically, Nygma wouldn't have the slightest chance against him. He felt his muscles tense, practically foaming with rage.
And again Nygma wriggled stubbornly under him, finally breaking his patience.
With one hand he continued to cover Nygma's mouth while with the other, growling angrily, he ripped through the man’s thin trousers. Pearly white skin showed beneath. He pulled Nygma to his knees in front of him and heard with grim satisfaction that Nygma had nothing to say but a wordless whimper. His thighs were already trembling with tension. He pathetically attempted to steady himself by grabbing hold of the wrought-iron head of the bed, hands still tied together.
Batman ran a gloved palm over the man’s pale ass as he undid his suit below the belt.
This was too easy. Far too easy. But if this was the only way Nygma could be silenced, then he would get what he wanted. He reached over Nygma's back and forced him to rest his forehead on the mattress. Without any resistance, he lowered his head.
Submission.
Batman couldn't stop thinking about what the hell he was doing. His head was clouded with all the hatred. With all the fury. Nygma was right. He finally had to get rid of it all. Get rid of his urges, or they would eat him up like poisonous acid.
He freed his cock from his tight, armored pants. In a matter of seconds he had become so hard that he could painfully feel the racing pulse now pounding in his genitals. He was desperate for satisfaction, for relief, and for Nygma to finally read the riot act. He parted the other's firm cheeks with one hand and penetrated him. A brutal, dry entry. That was exactly how he wanted it.
Nygma howled and arched his back in pain, but Batman held his tight to his hips. “Is this it? Is this what you wanted from me?” He snarled.
Nygma couldn't answer. The pain seemed to take his breath away. He tensed so violently Batman felt as if he was trying to crush him. It was a powerful feeling., enjoyable and infinitely satisfying. And so slowly his rage mingled with the misty clouds of his arousal. He pulled Nygma a little closer as he began to thrust into him. The waves of his excitement lashed higher each time, and Batman was no longer able to fight them.
It was only a moment before his enemy finally stopped bucking against the rhythm. His resistance ebbed. His body became softer, more flexible. Indeed, it appeared that he was giving up. As if he were falling. That in turn brought back Batman's rage— he shouldn't be enjoying it! Angrily, he thrust deeper and faster, but it did not bring the desired success. If anything, it gave Nygma renewed vigor, and though he was trembling all over, he suddenly found his voice again, even if it sounded strangely different now.
Batman could see how he closed his eyes in agonized lust. “Yes, fuck me. Force it in deep, come on!”
More fuel to the fire. The Dark Knight thrust even harder. His panting breath boomed digitally amplified throughout the room.
It seemed to turn Nygma on more and more. Beneath Batman's stocky body, his slender form twisted and trembled more and more from the exertion. Again and again he struggled to his knees, which kept slipping out from under him. His words tumbled out in an unstoppable gasp. “Fuck me until I can’t focus on anything else. Fuck me, Batman—“ He whimpered, Batman having hit the perfect spot inside him so hard he couldn't breathe. Nygma collapsed onto the dirty mattress, twitching. He didn't feel the wetness under his stomach anymore, he felt so numb.
The breathless Dark Knight was still crouching above him.
A long moment passed. Neither of them moved. They just gasped for air.
Icy wind whistled around the houses outside. It rattled the rickety windows, eventually bringing Batman out of his trance. Remorseful, he withdrew from Nygma and closed his pants. He eyed the limp body below. The villain's glasses lay next to him. They must have slipped off his nose during the brutal thrusts. His hands were still clutching the bars at the head of the bed frame. The wire had cut deeply into his wrists. Fresh blood was now running down his arms in several places. His face was deathly pale and the gaze of his half-open eyes was entirely unfocused.
He had beaten Edward Nygma. Literally. Batman listened to his mind, hoping for some sign of the satisfaction he had so longed for, but found no trace of it. Just as little about the blind fury that had ruled him until just now. The fury that had made him push his own limits in a way he never thought possible. The feelings were gone and all that seemed to be left was the taste of hot ash in his mouth. Instead, he now saw Nygma with a sober clarity that amazed himself. He finally seemed to be sane again, and he knew what to do.
He had known all along.
*
The first thing Edward saw when he woke up was the high, plastered ceiling above him. He was only able to open his aching eyes slowly. His eyelids felt heavy and sticky. He blinked. The ceiling didn't look familiar to him, even if he was seeing it a bit blurred without glasses. His body immediately tensed in alarm. Where the hell was he? He tried with all his might to move, but couldn't. For a moment he had the panic feeling that he was stuck in a straitjacket because he couldn't raise his arms, but then he realized that they were lying completely free on the bedspread next to his body. And yet he still couldn’t move, only managing to lift his head a little.
“Save your strength. You won't be able to get up.”
Edward recognized the digitally distorted, authoritative voice immediately. Batman stepped to his bedside from the semi-darkness and looked down at him. He must have been waiting in a corner of the room somewhere for him to wake up.
Thoughts raced through his pounding skull. "Where am I? What have you done with me? Why can't I move?” His voice was rough and slurred. Not even his tongue would obey him.
“A strong sedative. Your body hasn't completely broken it down yet. It also paralyzes your muscles, so you can't move again just yet. The effect should wear off in three to four hours.”
Edward stared at his wrists. They were bandaged with fresh gauze and smelled of antiseptic agents. His voice sounded tired and bitter. "Then you'd better tie me up before I can move again."
"I don't think that's necessary anymore." Batman switched on the lamp on the bedside table. The large room was now bright enough for them to see each other properly.
Edward turned his head and looked at the Dark Knight. "Why is that? Why am I here?"
"I want you to see something." Batman removed his gloves almost slowly. Then he reached under his mask and released the lock.
Edward's eyes widened as he realized what Batman was up to. He quickly turned his head away.
Batman paused. "Look at me!"
"You can't—“ he stuttered. "Nobody knows who you are— I don't want—“ A pain throbbed in his temples.
"You know who I am." Bruce Wayne jerked off the black mask and carded his hand through his hair. "And you've known for months."
Edward sighed in resignation and turned his head to look at Bruce.
"The only question is why you kept it to yourself all this time."
Something like rebellion flared up in Edward's blue eyes. “Because this secret is valuable! It is perhaps the greatest trump card ever and there has simply not yet been a suitable opportunity to play it—“
"Oh no, you've had plenty of opportunities to betray me." Bruce smiled mildly, having seen through Edward long ago. “It must have taken you quite a bit of time and effort to figure out my true identity. But you didn't do the job to destroy me. You just wanted to own the secret. Guard it like a treasure. You never intended to go public with it. It only served to connect you to me. "
Edward felt like he was going to be sick. "That's ridiculous!" He swallowed and felt the blood drain from his face. "Why would I want to be connected to you—"
Bruce didn't reply, because he could see from Edward's face that he was right. Instead, he turned off the light on the bedside table and replaced his gloves. “You should sleep a few more hours. You’ll feel better when you wake up. Then we can talk. I want to make you an offer. You can find me, I'll be down in the hall.”
Then he turned to leave.
Edward watched Bruce wearily. He was still wearing the battle suit and his floor-length cloak fell majestically over his broad back. He wore heavy boots, but they made little noise as he walked to the door. "What’s the offer?" He called after him weakly.
Only at the door did Bruce turn to him again and reply: "I want you to work for me."
Edward must have misheard. His tongue was heavy in his mouth. "Excuse me?" He choked out.
"I want you on my team." Then Bruce left the room, closing the door behind him.