Riddle 046: Trinity War

[questionauthority]

[ACTION - 462 STONE STREET, AFTERNOON

It doesn't take long for the two drone kiddies to notice dear ol' dad as he makes his way up the driveway after returning from school, and they rush towards him in excitement.

Daddy! Daddy! they call out. You got something in the mail!

One of the children, the smaller one, wobbles forward with three thin, long boxes that are about twice his size, only to trip over his own shoelaces and fall forward. The boxes break his fall and he, in turn, breaks into the topmost box. Edward sighs, rolls his eyes, and wanders out of the car, curious about what it is he's been sent this time.

Then he comes to a stop, having recognized a very flat yet very familiar face. It's Batman's face. Attached to a life-sized, cardboard body. If that isn't enough to rile up the kids, they tear into the other boxes before Edward can say a thing to stop them. What should be in the other two boxes but matching cardboard standees of Superman and Wonder Woman? Maybe it's a trick of the light, but the fuzzy little eyes of the drones seem to glow in excitement.

Can we play with them? Huh? Huh? Can we?!

Edward almost feels as though he should stop the children from damaging the standees further, but... ultimately decides against it. It's been a long couple of weeks. Instead, he'll move to the front stoop as the kids make their way back into the front yard. He sits back, pulls out a cigarette, and lights up, watching with an almost bored look on his face as his drone children singlehandedly destroy the Justice League.

ACTION - THE HALL OF DOOM, BENEATH 726 ANDERSON LANE, EVENING

Later on in the evening, Edward finds himself---you guessed it---at his old lair underneath his old house. Though in recent times, it's not much of an evil lair anymore. Still, as both a place for him to collect his thoughts and a bunker for emergencies, it's still an invaluable spot for the Riddler. Right now, though, he appears to be more concerned with taking stock of rations and consulting his inventory than with any other sort of brainstorming.]

Comments

726 Anderson

[hintcoinplz]

[Ever since Edward moved out, Luke has treated the Hall of Doom as his own personal hangout. There's no particular reason he's down here, other then this is the place where he can have a moment of peace.

He's carrying a small case under his arms, but stops when he spots Edward.]

Oh, hello Mr. Nigma.

[questionauthority]

Good evening, Luke.

[He glances briefly over his shoulder at Luke and nods in greeting. He's about to return to his work, but stops when he realizes Luke's got something with him. He nods in its direction.]

What's that you've got there?

[hintcoinplz]

My tea set! Well, it's actually the Professor's, but I got it back instead!

[He excitedly sets it down and opens it.]

I was thinking about using it. Do you want some?

[questionauthority]

[Edward smiles. It's a very tired smile, but a smile nonetheless.]

Absolutely. [He's in no particular hurry to finish with this inventory.] Just a moment.

[He might as well take note of one last thing before taking a break, and he glances at one of the shelves just in front of him, to a bottle of whiskey tucked away amidst a very small amount of other bottles of liquor. Then he pauses, squints at the bottle.]

That's odd...

[hintcoinplz]

[Luke continues babbling while Edward's looking. If there's something up, he doesn't seem to notice.]

Maybe I should make Sugar Smoke? I haven't had that one in a long time...

...What's odd?

462 Stone

[bread_goes_bip]

[She was planning to yell at him for going into that portal and taking the boys. But the standees have somewhat distracted her.]

Really, Eddie?

[questionauthority]

What? They aren't mine.

[They were props for a commercial. There's a difference.]

[bread_goes_bip]

The town apparently begs to differ.

[questionauthority]

[He snorts, ever the repugnant manchild. He fixes his gaze on the drone children, anything to avoid looking Didi in the eye.]

They seem to be having fun.

[bread_goes_bip]

Who knew they had such a propensity for wanton violence against superheroes.

462 Stone Street (Assuming you're still an Ethics Teacher at Mayfield High?)

[a_clockwork_melody]

[Aurica was walking home from school herself, so she wasn't as fast as Edward at getting home. Her home was right across from him, and it wasn't until she reached it that she noticed the brats playfighting with the objects. She looked between her house and his, not sure whether to enter or check out what was going on.

Like most peculiar things though, her curiosity got the best of her and so she walked over, mindful of possible traffic.

Meet a simple-looking girl wearing Mayfieldian clothes, someone you might recognize from the school you work at, and possibly in your class as well? (OOC: Your choice, if you prefer one way or another!)]

Oh no, they're going to break those things if they keep that up... What are they anyway?

[questionauthority]

They're props. For a commercial I shot back home.

[A simple reply is good enough for now. She doesn't need to know about the significance of these props just yet, even if Edward does recognize her as a student from his class. A new student, as a matter of fact.]

Ms. Nestmile, was it?

[a_clockwork_melody]

♪ BGM: Matta Living

[Whoops, excuse her for not recognizing her teacher, she was more absorbed with the kids at the time.]

Mr. Nigma, I didn't know you lived here! I live right over there.. [She pointed across the road.] But yes, that's me. Please, call me Aurica though. At least, out of class. [She smiled a perplexed but sincere smile and then bowed a bit. She still wasn't used to people calling her by her last name...]

462 Stone Street

[glowing_skye]

[Edward.

Edward, pls.]

Was encouraging the drone kids to be destructive really necessary?

[Ema's staring down at him, arms crossed, frowning.]

[questionauthority]

[Ema, pls.

He didn't even do anything this time! ...Which is probably worse, in a way.]

I wouldn't quite call it encouragement. They didn't seem all that interested in waiting for my permission.

[glowing_skye]

Not discouraging them is just as good as encouraging them.

[Still frowning, she has a seat. He'll notice that she has a bag of Snackoos in her hand and is munching through them at a pretty good pace.]

[questionauthority]

[Snackoos, eh? It's been a while since Edward's been able to steal some from Ema had one of those. So he'll just...

Sneak a hand... right over to the bag... and snag one when she isn't looking, popping it into his mouth before she can protest.

Then he makes a grimace.]

They're stale.

[glowing_skye]

[Ema whacks at his hand to try to get it away from her precious snacks, but is too slow. In frustration, she throws one at his face.]

I don't care. Stop stealing them.

[Jerk.]

[riastrad_ridire]

[Lancer will stop in his idle wandering past to just kind of...stare.]

...You look a lot less entertained than I would be watchin' this.

[questionauthority]

...I suppose it is entertaining, in a way.

[If you find Mayfield's drones tearing through established superheroes like the cardboard standees that they are entertaining, that is.]

[riastrad_ridire]

Beats the hell outta watchin' nothing, I guess.

726 Anderson

[inthebones]

Trespassing again?

[Edward should be no stranger to Susan's less than considerate habits, though she had, naturally, waited until he looked the most occupied to appear behind him.]

I'm afraid I don't include dusting your clubhouse in the weekly chores. It's gotten a bit neglected.

[questionauthority]

[You'll forgive him for jumping, Susan. Then glaring.]

I've noticed.

[Though he'd rather sort through all of this himself than come back to see that Susan had rooted through everything on her own. He returns to his stocklist, muttering under his breath. You made him lose count :| ]

[inthebones]

[Please. She'd very carefully sorted through his private things and then replaced them exactly where they were. Anyone would have done the same thing.]

Looking for anything in particular?

[questionauthority]

Taking stock. On the off-chance that we run into yet another catastrophe.

[He's pretty sure they will.]