I'll get you an ETA when I've got the guy. You know how slippery shady types can be.
[ About an hour, hour and a half that ETA comes in, and Flint does indeed arrive just in time. In a slightly battered looking truck, which would not look out of place turning up at a warehouse. Of course, the fact the large man who exits it doesn't need any assistance in hauling a man-sized crate down, walking in whistling with it held on his shoulder, might give the game away a bit. What's he whistling? Something on the nose.]
[Punctuality is appreciated, as is the choice of accompaniment. In case the question marks plastered over everything and the tendency to plaster his own face over every screen he can aren't enough of a give away, subtlety is something the Riddler only bothers with some of the time.
And that time is not now given the game-show mock-up he has set up, complete with camera and a podium for the 'contestant'. Just ignore the cuffs fixed to it. And the fact it's clearly connected to some sort of electrical system.]
Excellent timing! Care to get our guest in position and I'll transfer your fee. Unless you want to stay for the show?
Heck, why not? Always loved some educational television.
[ Once out of sight of any passersby, Flint feels free to show off in his own way. Riddler likes everyone to know he's the smartest guy in the room, Sandman likes everyone to know he's the toughest. He won't admit it, but he sees something of his Batman beating obsession in himself, with how badly he wants to beat The Thing (or to a lesser extent, Hulk) in a straight fight.
This is why he dissolves, seeping into the cracks of the crate as it lowers to the ground gently. After a few moments, the lid slams open as Sandman rises out as a twelve-foot titan, the unfortunate man trapped in the rapidly hardened sand of Flint's torso. He's gagged and blindfolded, which doesn't stop him making what are presumably nasty comments in a muffled manner as he gets moved over to the podium. The gentleman is wearing a classic black and white suit and looks remarkably like Errol Flynn.*]
...Hey, did you have all this stuff set up already or...?
[He'd assumed Flint would be only interested in watching sports or action films, but if he can appreciate an episode of Jeopardy, well, Edward can respect that. Much as he could understand the desire to beat the Thing or another opponent. Proving oneself is a common drive whatever one's strengths.
He can't fail to be impressed by those strengths when he sees them like that. Add in the way Flint uses his abilities, and, well, there is a reason he commands such a price tag for his services. Edward starts the camera rolling as their unwilling contestant is deposited in his spot with appreciable showmanship.]
Mmhmm. I had it leftover from an old game I ran once - the Riddle Factory! Sadly short-lived, but it's time for a reboot, I think. And what better way to start?
[Giving his cane a twirl, he stepped up in front of the camera, facing the podium and the man who apparently wanted him dead.] If my impressive assistant would remove our contestant's restraints, we can begin the game! The first question is: How did you think someone like you was capable of orchestrating the death of the Riddler?
[ Sandman travels over the podium, smoothly depositing Chance into the podium's cuffs and taking the restraints with him, swinging freely from his fingertips. As he reforms, he decides to play along with the scene by not recreating his iconic stripey shirt and slacks, but a suit and tie in the same colours.
Chance answers the question with a stream of profanity and threats, directed at both of the more prominent villains. ]
I get the feeling he shouldn't aughta have done that, right Riddler?
[ After all, Flint has had the chance to see the electrical hookup. Chance has not. ]
[Such a smooth transition, perhaps he'll hire Flint for future shows. It would add some visual flair to proceedings to have the contestants deposited by a giant Sandman. And he even dresses for the part.
Tutting at the response, he smirks at Flint.] No, he shouldn't have, Sandman. We have a rating to think of.
[A press of the button on his cane and shock silences Chance, however briefly. Painful but not incapacitating. He's looking for answers, not to kill the man. Not yet, anyway.]
Shall we try again, Mr Powell? Or do you want another penalty to your score?
[ Sandman stays behind Chance as he takes his shocks, willingly indulging his sadistic streak by watching with a smirk. Arms crossed, looking like the classic hired muscle. Something though starts pinging around in the back of his head. Cut him some slack, he's no genius like Riddler- he's taking a moment to put together that Eddy knows who this is. Because Sandy doesn't- one of those 'no names' deals. He knows of him, but not who it is he's dragged in.
Once the shuddering from the shocking passes, Chance takes a deep breath. Focuses. Tries to bring back some of that smooth operator charm he is famous for in possession of. ]
If you know me... you know that I was willing to gamble on it.
[Information is his business like, well, being nigh-indestructible and -unstoppable are Flint's. Edward hadn't known who wanted him dead when he heard from Marko, but he recognised the man's face when he saw him - had even considered hiring him once as part of a larger plan, but the man's compulsions were off-putting. Not hypocritical at all.
He rolls his eyes at the reply, spinning his cane idly in one hand.]
I'm sure you were. Were you also gambling on this outcome?
[It does occur to him, in the back of his mind, that perhaps the man was and has something up his sleeve... But it can't possibly be something he can't handle. Or convince Sandman to handle for him.]
[ That sort of thing is precisely why Flint respects Edward so much. To a guy who never finished high school, Riddler is like a different species. On top of that, he's just fun, dang it. It's been a long time since Flint has gotten to really enjoy being a supervillain, but Eddy just has so much style. These days everyone's all about gruesome grimness, a good old fashioned death trap with rules? That's panache.]
I worked out the odds. Fifty-fifty. [ Chance replies with a slowly growing smirk, which probably puts that idea at the back of Riddler's genius mind a bit further forward.
Meanwhile, Flint finally snaps his fingers and has a realisation. ] Hey, this guy is Chance!
[ There's a reason sand goes through an hourglass slowly, okay? ]
[Just murdering someone doesn't require any intelligence - the exact opposite, he'd say. It also doesn't get much by way of attention. A few headshakes or editorials depending on the victim, but that's not enough when he can force an entire city to be his audience for hours. He suspects it's an attitude Flint shares; the man isn't one for hiding his abilities when he doesn't need to. Sandman's talents make for impressive showing that they're worth drawing attention to.
As Chance draws attention to the fact, he might slightly smarter than originally thought. Eyes narrowing, Edward is about to reply when Flint speaks up again. He stops. Turns to face the man. The look on his speaks volumes, but that's not reason for Edward to hold his tongue.]
He tried to hire you. You captured him. And he's talking in gambling terms. Yet you only just worked that out?
[Whatever Chance could be planning, it's forgotten for now. This is clearly more important.]
[ And this is the rough part of their relationship crops up. Flint knows he's no genius, but he doesn't like it when it's implied he's an idiot. Even when he's being an idiot. It makes him defensive. ]
Oh right, like I'm supposed'tah memorise everyone with a rap sheet. He normally wears that bug-eyed mask thing. And I dunno about you, but when someone offers me money to kill someone, they don't show me their driver's license.
[ Flint has also taken his eyes off of Chance to defend his honour. The lesser-known criminal is watching with some amusement as Sandman and Riddler pay more attention to each other than him, and does something when he manages to fold his fingers under his hand just enough to touch something at his wrist. Basically the only movement afforded to him. ]
[Edward doesn't help matters when he scoffs and rolls his eyes. Never the most tactful of people, he looks down his nose at Marko. A feat when the man is taller than him.]
It helps to know ones potential allies and enemies. I would say competition, but he's not that. To say nothing of the wisdom of checking your would-be employer can actually pay you before taking the job. Maybe next time ask for that driver's license? Or better yet, learn your peers.
[Edward is definitely not paying attention to Chance any more either, the whole game and threat forgotten. He can get back to it in a minute. First, he needs to prove he's right.]
Some of us are too busy doin' all the actual work to sit around memorising pictures of the entire %@$&*ing supervillain catalogue. And he paid me in advance, smart guy. I got him coming and going, see?
[ The sad thing is this is still more civil than Flint is with his most long-term partners, the Frightful Four. They were never shy about getting violent with each other, including their own resident nerd with a big ego super genius, the Wizard. He's used to being looked down on by shrimps, but it doesn't make it annoy him any less. ]
What's it matter anyway, when we got the mug dead to rights?
[ Chance is just smugly watching all this go down with a grin, even as Flint points at him while declaring him a 'mug.' You can always tell when Flint is getting emotional because he starts doing a James Cagney impression. ]
Doing the actual work? Please. It takes no time to learn those who think they could be competition. So he was a fool this time; next time, you might be approached by someone with the wits not to pay upfront.
[But he's got a point. It's not the Riddler's problem if Sandman gets himself cheated one day. Chance is here at his mercy, and that's all he cares about. And he'd rather Flint not get violent with him; he has a few systems in place to defend himself, which of course, will work perfectly; he built them himself. But given what the man can do... He'd prefer not to have to activate them. Turning back to Chance, he clears his throat, trying to get into the spirit of things again.]
Yes, back to our contestant. Now that you've had time to think about your answer, what do you have to say for yourself, Mr Powell? Or will we be playing a penalty game?
[ Flint starts to protest that he's not that dumb, but the truth is he has taken jobs without pay upfront before. Usually in desperate circumstances, sometimes through blackmail, sometimes just blinded by greed. Protip learned the hard way: Communist revolutionaries don't usually have a lot of cash. But either way, Flint huffs and crosses his arms, but keeps his mouth shut. He's pretty sure Riddler wouldn't get into the spirit of it like the Frightful Four did, trading tricks on each other to prove who was the toughest, constantly bickering over who should be the leader... good times. Eddy seems more likely to get offended and cut the partnership altogether. ]
Let me answer your question with a question. [ Chance clears his throat in a similar manner to Riddler and recites what everyone must have seen coming from a fellow show off. A riddle. Not a very good one, but he just made it up. ] What am I doing, that you two fruits should be stuck on?*
[ Flint just looks at Riddler expectantly, trying to gauge his reaction to see if that means anything. Chance seems to think so, as his smile starts to grow, and the distant buzz of approaching drones starts to become audible. ]
[Edward frowns, irritated at the interruption to his game and the simple riddle both.] That's a pathetic riddle, you cheap-
[The answer comes to him before the sound quite registers, but when it does, Edward freezes for a moment, turning towards the sound on the edge of his hearing. Fury flashes across his face, and he whips back around to face Chance. In a moment of pettiness, he triggers the current again, just in case, it hasn't been disrupted somehow. It won't solve the problem even if it still works, but it will make him feel better about being - not tricked; Chance couldn't hope to outsmart him. But distracted.
Turning to Flint, he snaps-] He wanted you to bring him here! Keep his drones off me until I can disrupt them.
[Not the best way to ask for protection but he's still stuck wanting to electrocute Chance for this insult. Good manners can wait. From his perspective anyway.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
one time i saw captcha kick a puppy. and that puppy's name? albert einstein
sure. what hideout you using these days?
what other option was there then?
Down by the river. I'll send you coordinates.
[The GPS coordinates for an old warehouse follow. Sometimes you have to go with the classics.]
Peace... was never an option.
[ About an hour, hour and a half that ETA comes in, and Flint does indeed arrive just in time. In a slightly battered looking truck, which would not look out of place turning up at a warehouse. Of course, the fact the large man who exits it doesn't need any assistance in hauling a man-sized crate down, walking in whistling with it held on his shoulder, might give the game away a bit. What's he whistling? Something on the nose. ]
no subject
[Punctuality is appreciated, as is the choice of accompaniment. In case the question marks plastered over everything and the tendency to plaster his own face over every screen he can aren't enough of a give away, subtlety is something the Riddler only bothers with some of the time.
And that time is not now given the game-show mock-up he has set up, complete with camera and a podium for the 'contestant'. Just ignore the cuffs fixed to it. And the fact it's clearly connected to some sort of electrical system.]
Excellent timing! Care to get our guest in position and I'll transfer your fee. Unless you want to stay for the show?
no subject
[ Once out of sight of any passersby, Flint feels free to show off in his own way. Riddler likes everyone to know he's the smartest guy in the room, Sandman likes everyone to know he's the toughest. He won't admit it, but he sees something of his Batman beating obsession in himself, with how badly he wants to beat The Thing (or to a lesser extent, Hulk) in a straight fight.
This is why he dissolves, seeping into the cracks of the crate as it lowers to the ground gently. After a few moments, the lid slams open as Sandman rises out as a twelve-foot titan, the unfortunate man trapped in the rapidly hardened sand of Flint's torso. He's gagged and blindfolded, which doesn't stop him making what are presumably nasty comments in a muffled manner as he gets moved over to the podium. The gentleman is wearing a classic black and white suit and looks remarkably like Errol Flynn.* ]
...Hey, did you have all this stuff set up already or...?
*This is because I randomly decided it's unremarkable c-lister Nicholas Powell, aka Chance. No reason.
I can appreciate this choice!
[He'd assumed Flint would be only interested in watching sports or action films, but if he can appreciate an episode of Jeopardy, well, Edward can respect that. Much as he could understand the desire to beat the Thing or another opponent. Proving oneself is a common drive whatever one's strengths.
He can't fail to be impressed by those strengths when he sees them like that. Add in the way Flint uses his abilities, and, well, there is a reason he commands such a price tag for his services. Edward starts the camera rolling as their unwilling contestant is deposited in his spot with appreciable showmanship.]
Mmhmm. I had it leftover from an old game I ran once - the Riddle Factory! Sadly short-lived, but it's time for a reboot, I think. And what better way to start?
[Giving his cane a twirl, he stepped up in front of the camera, facing the podium and the man who apparently wanted him dead.] If my impressive assistant would remove our contestant's restraints, we can begin the game! The first question is: How did you think someone like you was capable of orchestrating the death of the Riddler?
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Chance answers the question with a stream of profanity and threats, directed at both of the more prominent villains. ]
I get the feeling he shouldn't aughta have done that, right Riddler?
[ After all, Flint has had the chance to see the electrical hookup. Chance has not. ]
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Tutting at the response, he smirks at Flint.] No, he shouldn't have, Sandman. We have a rating to think of.
[A press of the button on his cane and shock silences Chance, however briefly. Painful but not incapacitating. He's looking for answers, not to kill the man. Not yet, anyway.]
Shall we try again, Mr Powell? Or do you want another penalty to your score?
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Once the shuddering from the shocking passes, Chance takes a deep breath. Focuses. Tries to bring back some of that smooth operator charm he is
famous forin possession of. ]If you know me... you know that I was willing to gamble on it.
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Not hypocritical at all.He rolls his eyes at the reply, spinning his cane idly in one hand.]
I'm sure you were. Were you also gambling on this outcome?
[It does occur to him, in the back of his mind, that perhaps the man was and has something up his sleeve... But it can't possibly be something he can't handle. Or convince Sandman to handle for him.]
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I worked out the odds. Fifty-fifty. [ Chance replies with a slowly growing smirk, which probably puts that idea at the back of Riddler's genius mind a bit further forward.
Meanwhile, Flint finally snaps his fingers and has a realisation. ] Hey, this guy is Chance!
[ There's a reason sand goes through an hourglass slowly, okay? ]
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As Chance draws attention to the fact, he might slightly smarter than originally thought. Eyes narrowing, Edward is about to reply when Flint speaks up again. He stops. Turns to face the man. The look on his speaks volumes, but that's not reason for Edward to hold his tongue.]
He tried to hire you. You captured him. And he's talking in gambling terms. Yet you only just worked that out?
[Whatever Chance could be planning, it's forgotten for now. This is clearly more important.]
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Oh right, like I'm supposed'tah memorise everyone with a rap sheet. He normally wears that bug-eyed mask thing. And I dunno about you, but when someone offers me money to kill someone, they don't show me their driver's license.
[ Flint has also taken his eyes off of Chance to defend his honour. The lesser-known criminal is watching with some amusement as Sandman and Riddler pay more attention to each other than him, and does something when he manages to fold his fingers under his hand just enough to touch something at his wrist. Basically the only movement afforded to him. ]
no subject
It helps to know ones potential allies and enemies. I would say competition, but he's not that. To say nothing of the wisdom of checking your would-be employer can actually pay you before taking the job. Maybe next time ask for that driver's license? Or better yet, learn your peers.
[Edward is definitely not paying attention to Chance any more either, the whole game and threat forgotten. He can get back to it in a minute. First, he needs to prove he's right.]
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[ The sad thing is this is still more civil than Flint is with his most long-term partners, the Frightful Four. They were never shy about getting violent with each other, including their own resident
nerd with a big egosuper genius, the Wizard. He's used to being looked down on by shrimps, but it doesn't make it annoy him any less. ]What's it matter anyway, when we got the mug dead to rights?
[ Chance is just smugly watching all this go down with a grin, even as Flint points at him while declaring him a 'mug.' You can always tell when Flint is getting emotional because he starts doing a James Cagney impression. ]
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[But he's got a point. It's not the Riddler's problem if Sandman gets himself cheated one day. Chance is here at his mercy, and that's all he cares about. And he'd rather Flint not get violent with him; he has a few systems in place to defend himself, which of course, will work perfectly; he built them himself. But given what the man can do... He'd prefer not to have to activate them. Turning back to Chance, he clears his throat, trying to get into the spirit of things again.]
Yes, back to our contestant. Now that you've had time to think about your answer, what do you have to say for yourself, Mr Powell? Or will we be playing a penalty game?
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Let me answer your question with a question. [ Chance clears his throat in a similar manner to Riddler and recites what everyone must have seen coming from a fellow show off. A riddle. Not a very good one, but he just made it up. ] What am I doing, that you two fruits should be stuck on?*
[ Flint just looks at Riddler expectantly, trying to gauge his reaction to see if that means anything. Chance seems to think so, as his smile starts to grow, and the distant buzz of approaching drones starts to become audible. ]
*Give up? The answer is: A stall!
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[The answer comes to him before the sound quite registers, but when it does, Edward freezes for a moment, turning towards the sound on the edge of his hearing. Fury flashes across his face, and he whips back around to face Chance. In a moment of pettiness, he triggers the current again, just in case, it hasn't been disrupted somehow. It won't solve the problem even if it still works, but it will make him feel better about being - not tricked; Chance couldn't hope to outsmart him. But distracted.
Turning to Flint, he snaps-] He wanted you to bring him here! Keep his drones off me until I can disrupt them.
[Not the best way to ask for protection but he's still stuck wanting to electrocute Chance for this insult. Good manners can wait. From his perspective anyway.]