[CENTER][IMG]https://i.imgur.com/9PGM5Xe.png[/IMG][/CENTER]

[b]Gotham City, 140th Street[/b]
[b]Alcuin & Spilsbury Towers[/b]
[b]8:27 PM[/b]

[color=#00a651]"There has to be a thread to pull. You're just not seeing it. Think bigger, Edward..."[/color]

[IMG]https://i.imgur.com/sgse5WX.png[/IMG]

A little under twenty-four hours ago, the citizens of Gotham had awoken to one of the most unbelievable sights of their lives. Rising up just eighty miles miles beyond the coastline of the city, a mushroom cloud had appeared. National health officials and members of both the FBI and CIA were coordinating with eachother on an extensive investigation into the blast, and whether or not it was a failed terrorist attack on US Soil perpetrated by an enemy state. Rumors were already circulating through the usual channels that it was either Khandaq or Biayla, two warring nations that had brought the whole of the Middle East into their crossfire, but very little was known by most intelligence committees. In the meantime, a temporary quarantine had been placed on Gotham and a mandatory curfew had been enacted by the Governor. It simply wasn't safe to freely walk the streets. 

Which suited Edward Nashton just fine, as he had been trying desperately to concentrate on his own investigations amid various distractions. Between trying to navigate the treacherous waters of the GCPD, collecting information on the gangs from his two operatives stationed within the city, and keeping a watchful eye on any potential leads that would give him The Batman, the Agent hadn't been given a moment's rest in weeks. With the fallout of the bomb to take into consideration, most workers in the city had been given the day off, leading to many spending a relaxing evening at home. Edward's idea of relaxation was stretching his mind, not his legs, in the pursuit of a larger equation that no one had yet to solve. 

The latest puzzle to gauge his interest? The mysterious fifth family of the reigning collective of mobsters, The Five Families. 

So far, Nashton had been working multiple angles in order to come up with a feasible candidate. There were many spokes in the wheel of organized crime in Gotham, with multiple moving parts working under the larger families. Operations of a miniscule size, largely headed by would-be gangsters and small-timers looking to become the next Carmine Falcone. But despite checking and double checking the qualifications that would likely be mixed into the variables to put one family above the other and attract Falcone's attention, Edward kept drawing a blank. 

Falcone's own Syndicate had been there from the beginning of the movement, whenever Carmine's father enacted The Roman's Holiday Massacre in 1939. Then came the Moxon family, the Syndicate's initial rival from the 1940's all the way the 1960's, with Lewis 'Lew' Moxon cutting a bloody swath through what eventually became the East End in retaliation to Falcone's seizure of power. That family was now represented by Thomas 'El Gato' Blake, the husband of Mallory Maxon and heir apparent. Following them was Salvatore Maroni, a made man of his own accord who helped spring Carmine's original operations in the 1970's. A falling out occurred, Maroni stabbed the Syndicate in the back and gained control of the GCPD, turning the tide and giving his own Capo Italiana a piece of the city all their own. 

And then there was the Siberian. Oswald 'The Penguin' Cobblepot. Taking advantage of the fall of the Grissom crime family, who had been considered the third to the hierarchy in Gotham throughout the 1980's, Cobblepot had seemingly bought his way into the fold with a cache of military grade weapons that most seemed to favor over those already on the black market. By all accounts that Nashton could pull together, Cobblepot wasn't particularly well respected by any of the major families, but The Red Triangle had endless resources after Oswald had migrated his business directly from Russia, inheriting billions from his time as a major figurehead of the Bratva. So while the short, fat little man was being kept on a short leash for his erratic behavior, The Penguin was otherwise considered virtually untouchable. 

Nashton leaned forward in his seat, carefully scanning over the list of names that could potentially be acting as the fifth member of the titular group. But the list was short, and there was no evidence to support any one of them having made an ascension to the top. Frustratedly massaging his temple, Edward started to seriously consider the possibility that there was, in fact, [i]no[/i] fifth family and that the secrecy surrounding their existence was all a ruse. 

It made some degree of sense, since Falcone's operations had been taking a hit under the combination of rogue factions like The Royal Flush Gang and Batman's sudden appearance several months prior, but it felt more like feeding a conspiracy theory to give [i]up[/i] the search than to buy into the idea that there was a secret faction that no one, not even Falcone or Maroni themselves, wished to acknowledge to their top lieutenants. After all, that was how shadow organizations amassed power in the first place. If one could doubt their existence, they could theoretically rule everything. 

That was how the Bilderberg Group and the Illuminati had operated, and Edward had long since managed to tie specific members of the government directly to those organizations. But this investigation was beginning to become taxing, as Nashton had been doing research for close to nine hours straight without so much as a credible lead. He sighed to himself, closing his laptop and standing up from behind his desk in the top floor penthouse office he had built for himself. 

[color=#00a651]"Ah, of course. Why didn't you see it sooner?"[/color], he rhetorically asked himself. [color=#00a651]"Perhaps a drink will clear out the cobwebs and illuminate something. I believe you have a rare Chardonnay awaiting in the fridge..."[/color]

Securing both his cane and a silk robe, Edward removed his emerald suit jacket and placed the robe over himself, fastening it as he descended down the stairs and into the dark. Feeling the vibration of his cellphone, he reached within his pocket and produced it to find a text message waiting. It stopped him in his tracks, briefly, noting the urgency of which it was written. 

[color=#00a651]"Trouble. Get out now."[/color]

Edward rolled his eyes, tucking the phone into his robe.

[color=#00a651]"Arthur, you were always entirely too dramatic."[/color]

But as he reached the bottom floor of the suite, no sooner did the soles of his shoes touch the marble floor did Nashton hear something shuffling in the distance. Raising an eyebrow, he noted that it was coming from the living room area. An intruder, he mused. Whoever had broken in would have had to do so with some degree of skill, given the many alarm systems that Edward had taken the liberty of installing. Nevertheless, his hand gripped the cane even tighter as he limped ahead to the lightswitch next to the front door, which had been carelessly left open. 

The rational homeowner would search for a weapon of some sort, preferably a gun. Nashton was so bored by the notion of this breach that he didn't even want to waste the effort. Flipping the lightswitch on and casting light into the room, Edward stared nonchalantly at the figure that had been rummaging through the dark as they froze. 

[color=#00a651]"You know, Peyton. If you wanted safe habor from the fallout of the blast, you could have just knocked."[/color]

Agent Peyton Riley slowly turned around, making her hands visible in the event that Nashton had a weapon. Whenever she saw that he didn't, she frantically pulled a glock from a holster strapped to her own hip and levelled it squarely at Nashton. Rather than being overcome with fear, however, Nashton looked at the loaded gun with a head-tilt, as if he expected something better. As if he were [i]expecting[/i] this, in general. 

[color=#a2d39c]"Don't move."[/color]

Edward narrowed his eyes into a sneer. 

[color=#00a651]"Do I look to be doing so?"[/color], he retorted, his tone laced with condescension. [color=#00a651]"What is this, Riley? Some sort of blackmail, or am I giving you far too much credit?"[/color]

Riley raised the gun even more directly at Nashton's chest. One of her hands began trembling, but she shook it off, taking a step forward as she noted that her superior wasn't so much as flinching. He wasn't taking her seriously in the least, so she would give him a reason to.

[color=#a2d39c]"You're fond of riddles, aren't you, Edward?"[/color], she began, her voice holding back venom. [color=#a2d39c]"Then see if you can answer this one. Is it Agent Edward Nashton, profiler for the CIA? Or is it Arthur Wynne of Cadmus, expert manhunter? You told Gordon the former, and told the Secretary of State the latter. And that's just the tip of the iceberg whenever it comes to your many aliases and chosen professions, isn't it?"[/color]

Nashton didn't so much as blink.

[color=#a2d39c]"You know what? It's irrelevant. I think the real puzzle is staring us both in the face."[/color]

Narrowing her eyes, Riley's finger overlapped the trigger. 

[color=#a2d39c]"Are you Edward Nashton... or [b]Edward Nigma[/b]?"[/color]

Once more, Edward didn't seem threatened or even affected by this acquired revelation. Though everything she said was entirely true, Nigma simply shook his head, shooting her a glare. 

[color=#00a651]"My, Agent Riley. It seems as though you've been busy."[/color]

[b][color=#a2d39c]"Shut up!"[/color][/b], she protested.[color=#a2d39c] "Three years. For three [b]fucking[/b] years you've been lying to me. Lying to [b]everyone[/b], making up false credentials to hide your criminal past and getting by with it in the face of every major government organization that you've somehow managed to cross. Giving us cryptic clues about the Agency we were even working for. Funneling our paychecks through wired accounts, supplying us with equipment on your own. Christ, Edward. Was [b]any[/b] of it real?"[/color]

[color=#00a651]"Technically speaking? No."[/color]

Edward took a limp step forward, causing Riley to tense up as she gripped the gun. 

[color=#00a651]"The truth is, this was all a series of investigations. My own private investigations, to gain knowledge where others could never acquire it. Never [i]hope[/i] to acquire it, as most weren't smart enough to see the bigger picture. But to speak of your so-called credentials? That much is true."[/color], he admitted. [color=#00a651]"They were falsified from the beginning. You don't work for any official agency any more than I do."[/color]

Nigma blankly stared her in the eyes as tears began to form in hers.

[color=#00a651]"Which, given the way you were hired, one would think you would have figured that out long before now. You were an Ivy League dropout, Peyton. I found you selling your body on the streets of Coast City just so that you could meet your meager rent. What government organization, pray tell, would have you with that kind of resume?"[/color]

[color=#a2d39c]"You arrogant bastard."[/color], she spat behind gritted teeth. [color=#a2d39c]"Why go to all this trouble? Why the deception with me and Brown? We both stuck our necks out for you too many times to count. We risked our lives to give you intel! And now you're telling me that it was all just so you could play some sick, twisted game of mental superiority?!"[/color]

Nigma smirked.

[color=#00a651]"Is it really a game if it's the truth?"[/color]

Riley began to circle him, hoping to give herself some leverage between Edward and the front door, in the event that he somehow gained the upper hand. Through her own investigations, Peyton had discovered an alarming rap sheet for the criminal that she now saw herself staring down, exposed for what he truly was. 

He'd started as a low-level hacker, leaking government secrets to terrorist cells and then framing high-ranking officials for his crimes. As he'd started to make a bigger name for himself as the hacker 'Enigma', the aliases began to circulate. 

Edward Nashton. Arthur Wynne. James Glover. John Gorshin. Frank Carrey. 

All members of a top level intelligence agency, swooping into an active investigation whenever each organization needed it. The genius willing to lend out his expertise, knowing which string to pull in order to solve the unsolvable case. This was his scheme. And he'd been playing it for over a decade, now, with no one becoming the wiser. No one that had lived to speak of it, that is. 

But what was most alarming about this was the apparent lack of motive, as Nigma had financed his own operations from the beginning, with bank records almost non-existent with any of those given aliases. So he hadn't done it for money, which meant that there was something even more nefarious behind the facade. What Riley hadn't figured out was what that was. 

[color=#00a651]"Before I answer your questions, I'd almost be betraying my reputation if I didn't pose one of my own."[/color], Nigma offered, never breaking eye contact. [color=#00a651]"How did you learn of all this? You're smarter than Brown, I'll give you, but you were never [i]that[/i] smart. It must have taken quite a considerable amount of effort for someone of your resources to come up with all the necessary pieces."[/color]

Riley's fear faded, as her expression exuded a level of cockiness.

[color=#a2d39c]"For such a brilliant man, you certainly aren't very careful, Edward. All you had to do was set me on the path, and everything came to light whenever I started digging. You revealed that machine to us, gave us the fake story about it being lifted from a would-be cyber terrorist. There was something off about the whole thing, so I looked into who that criminal could have been. Turns out, there was never such a man reported in the first place, which led me to focus on you. And that's when the dominoes started to fall."[/color]

Peyton smirked. 

[color=#a2d39c]"It was almost too easy."[/color]

Nigma still didn't seem even somewhat phased by any of this. 

Infact, he began to chuckle, prompting Riley to stare back in a hostile confusion.

[color=#a2d39c]"You think this is funny, you psychotic piece of shit?!"[/color]

[color=#00a651]"Forgive me, Peyton. It's just in the way you said it."[/color], Nigma replied. [color=#00a651]"That it was [b]almost[/b] too easy. Rather than the fact of it simply being too easy. Ask yourself this, Peyton. With all of the high-level clearance that I've been afforded over the years, and all of the information that you found, how is it that [b]you[/b], of all people, were able to vet me when entire teams of intelligence ops never could?"[/color]

Riley froze. 

[color=#a2d39c]"I..."[/color]

[color=#00a651]"It's because I [i]allowed[/i] it, you crusading idiot. I set the trap, you took the bait. I'd been tracking your little investigation since it started, placing the right incriminating files in the right areas for you to find, leaving it all out in the open just long enough for you to stumble across them. Handing them to you as if you were a child."[/color], Nigma began, increasingly hostile himself. [color=#00a651]"And what did you do with the information? Report me to the GCPD? To Gordon? Or perhaps get in touch with the CIA? Cadmus? SHIELD? No. You did nothing of the sort. You texted Brown, and you came here with a gun, all so you could brag about how you followed the breadcrumbs that [b]I laid at your feet.[/b]"[/color]

Peyton's hand began to tremble once again. Surely, he was just trying to save face. 

He was skilled and a shrewd manipulator, but to go to that level of effort?

That indicated a level of sociopathy that she had never even began to encounter.

[color=#a2d39c]"You're[b] lying[/b]."[/color], she outright accused. [color=#a2d39c]"This is all some mind game that you're trying to pull in order to spare yourself the extra time. Even if that insane story was the [b]slightest[/b] bit true, I didn't come here to brag, Edward. I came here to find that damned machine, your 'Tabula Rasa', and turn it over to Gordon myself. Giving him the files would be one thing, but to have your skeleton key to go with them? It would send you away for life. I planned this, and you're just angry that you got caught with your pants down."[/color]

Nigma smiled, mischievously. 

[color=#00a651]"Then, pray tell, where is the device?"[/color]

Riley levelled the gun to Edward's temple, stepping into close enough range.

[color=#a2d39c]"Funny. That was what I was about to ask [b]you[/b]. Hand it over right now, and I don't have to kill you."[/color]

[color=#00a651]"Oh, Peyton."[/color]

Twisting a hidden dial on the back of his cane, Nigma made sure to keep her attention squarely focused on him as he waited for the panel at the bottom of the cane to slide back. 

[color=#00a651]"Do [b]grow up[/b]."[/color]

Slamming his cane against the floor, Riley was immediately caught off guard as she suddenly felt several thousand volts of electricity course throughout her body. Her nerves instantaneously froze up, the gun fell to her feet, and she doubled over before collapsing to the floor, still conscious but numb. Nigma stepped over her and slid the gun away with his shoe, indicating the footwear with his cane. 

[color=#00a651]"Insulated soles. You would have done well to bring yourself a pair."[/color]

Riley stared up in horror, realizing that the madman had gained the advantage. 

[i][color=#a2d39c]"Oh, god. Oh, god..."[/color][/i]

Nigma leaned over her, tilting his head once again. 

[color=#00a651]"Frankly, Peyton, you did me quite the favor in going about this as predictably as possible. Whenever I revealed Tabula Rasa's existence to you and Brown, I did so with the intention to see what you both would do with such knowledge. Knowledge, as you may have already guessed, is the greatest commodity in existence. It either pushes us forward or clouds our perspective, sending us back. I needed the knowledge, for instance, of whom I could trust in going forward with my plans for Gotham. And that has been made clear. You, however..."[/color]

Poking her temple with the cane, Nigma glared at her with a look of disapproval.

[color=#00a651]"Came up short, as always."[/color]

The tears now streaming down her face as she realized that she was entirely helpless, Riley looked to Nigma with a clear plea for mercy etched across her face.

[i][color=#a2d39c]"Please. Please don't kill me. I... I'll keep quiet. I won't say a word."[/color][/i]

Standing up straight, Edward didn't so much as acknowledge her as he turned around and continued into the kitchen.

[color=#00a651]"I have more pressing matters to concern myself with than your empty promises. But if you're worrying that I'm the type of person who enacts personal vengeance, you honestly insult my intelligence. I have no intention of killing you."[/color]

Opening the fridge, Nigma produced his bottle of wine as Riley noticed the front door creak open. Standing in the doorway was Arthur Brown, her partner and the other patsy that Edward had made a fool out of for three years. Her eyes widening, she tried to move as if to warn him to turn back. He had been her back-up, in the event that things went south, but Nigma was more clever than she had anticipated. Brown was better off running and getting the documents to Gordon as quickly as he could. 

[color=#00a651]"That being said..."[/color]

[b][i]BLAM![/i][/b]

[color=#00a651]"I can't speak for Arthur."[/color]

The back of Peyton Riley's skull shattered open as Brown stood over her lifeless body, a smoking pistol in hand. Her blood splattered over the marble floors as her brains began to spill out, which Edward was quick to step over as he advanced, holding two glasses of his freshly prepared Chardonnay. Handing one to Brown, he took a long sip of his before looking down at the corpse.

[color=#00a651]"Such a pity. I had hoped she would have been smarter, but Peyton really had always been a disappointment. Now we're a woman short."[/color]

Brown looked at the glass of wine and merely placed it aside, sheathing his gun as he looked towards Edward with little-to-no emotion.

[color=#00a99d]"Then I assume we're going to be recruiting, sir?"[/color]

Nigma smiled to himself, allowing the wine to swish around in the glass as he contemplated that very notion. Perhaps it [i]was[/i] time to begin an expansion of their operation. All that it had taken to convince Brown to turn against his partner was a hefty sum wired directly to his account, electronically stolen from some millionaire that Nigma had chosen at random. And if that was all that it took to get people on his side, he would have no shortage of loyalists to pluck from Maroni's grasp in the GCPD.

[color=#00a651]"We already are. Why else do you think I set up the hit on Dent by placing him in Miss Isley's crosshairs?", [/color][color=#ffffff]Nigma curtly replied.[/color][color=#00a651] "The Batman Task Force isn't merely to capture a caped vigilante. It's my own bit of insurance to ensure that everything runs smoothly from here on out."[/color]

Glancing down at Peyton Riley's dead body, Nigma posed a riddle to both himself and to her. An old favorite of his from childhood. 

[color=#00a651]"When is a door not a door?"[/color]

[b]Gotham City, Dini Plaza[/b]
[b]The Syndicate Hideout[/b]
[b]9:00 PM[/b]

[b][color=#686363]"And when did you receive this message?"[/color][/b]

Roman Sionis looked at his phone, checking the exact date and time attached to the photo. Carmine 'The Roman' Falcone looked toward him with a skeptical eye from behind his desk, as his bodyguard, a man known only as Meredith, stood to his left and Selina Kyle leaned against the wall to his right, filing her nails and making her disinterest in the matter clear. Sionis had called ahead, particularly eager to share the news. 

The Penguin was dead. The photo on Sionis' phone was of his corpse, having been strangled and strung up on a pole overlooking the dance floor of his nightclub. Which theoretically meant that The Red Triangle was no more, and that there would be many vying for the now vacant fifth spot on The Five Families' roster. 

[b][color=#b67171]"Just a little over an hour ago. Had a guy working Maroni's beat confirm it for us through the forensics lab. They just carted Cobblepott's fat ass away after his mistress found him."[/color][/b]

Falcone reached for the phone as it was handed to him. Carefully inspecting the photo for himself, which showed the corpse's face in great detail, he seemed displeased with the result, rather than content with the matter of the rogue Siberian finally being settled.

[b][color=#b67171]"Don't you see what this means, Carmine? His men are ours. All we gotta do is make an offer, and Grissom's old territories are back where they belong, under Syndicate jurisdiction."[/color][/b]

The Roman didn't even look at Sionis as he placed the phone down. 

[b][color=#686363]"You said that this came from an anonymous source. Did this man on Salvatore's payroll happen to have the number ran?"[/color][/b]

Sionis raised an eyebrow. 

[b][color=#b67171]"What?"[/color][/b]

Falcone placed his hands together.

[b][color=#686363]"Roman, you're not exactly seeing the bigger picture, here. You see opportunity where there likely is none. If Maroni's people already know about this, Capo Italiana is likely to be making the very offer that you spoke of to The Penguin's men. This is now his opportunity, not mine, and you allowed it to slip through your fingers."[/color][/b]

Sionis sneered.

[b][color=#b67171]"With [i]all[/i] due respect..."[/color][/b]

Carmine slammed his fist down onto the phone, simultaneously cracking the screen and silencing his underboss in one fell swoop. 

[b][color=#686363]"And the more prevalent issue is not what we can gain from this. I'm more concerned with who could have done this to Cobblepot in the [i]first [/i]place. By all accounts, he was well protected. Some even claimed he was building an army of freaks to stake out even larger areas of Gotham for himself. So whoever did this is likely incredibly skilled, and considering none of the other bosses have taken credit..."[/color][/b]

A look of realization washed over Sionis' face.

[b][color=#b67171]"Someone's targeting us."[/color][/b]

Selina finally stopped to admire her pedicure, leering at Sionis' ineptitude.

[b][color=#a187be]"And the cat finally swallows the canary."[/color][/b]

Falcone snapped his fingers, prompting Meredith to step forward.

[color=#896ab3]"Sir?"[/color]

[b][color=#686363]"I want an assembly of all organizational figureheads. Tonight, with no excuses to be accepted. This will be a matter for all of us to discuss, moving forward. Extend an invitation to Cobblepot's entourage, aswell. Though I don't expect them to attend."[/color][/b]

Meredith nodded.

[color=#896ab3]"Yes, sir."[/color]

Roman looked at the bodyguard with a sense of offense, turning back to Falcone. 

[b][color=#b67171]"Why are you making him do that? I have everybody's number, and could get them here within the hour."[/color][/b]

Carmine glared back at Sionis with a measure of contempt.

[b][color=#686363]"You weren't even competent enough to handle a simple confirmation of this rather sensitive information. I don't expect to be able to trust you to carry out an even simpler task."[/color][/b]

Roman angrily stared back, but was still smart enough to say nothing. The old man had looked down on him for years, chided him at every turn, and questioned his methods whenever possible. It had grown tiresome, given the amount of loyalty that Sionis had placed towards Falcone since earning his spot in the organization. But this sleight was one too many.

[b][color=#b67171]"Carmine..."[/color][/b]

[b][color=#686363]"It's [i]sir[/i], to you. You'll earn your right to formalities when I've decided you're worth being allowed to them. Now get out of my office, and take the rest of the night off. You're dismissed."[/color][/b]

His eyes widened, Roman nevertheless stood up from his seat. He didn't know whether to shoot the old man right then and there, but the temptation was certainly hanging over him. Eventually, a cooler head prevailed and he decided against it. With a careful nod, Sionis wordlessly turned around and promptly exited the room. Selina watched him as he left, before turning to her father. 

[b][color=#a187be]"You don't really believe that Maroni's capitalizing on this, do you?"[/color][/b]

Falcone sighed. 

[b][color=#686363]"Not in the slightest. But the idiota has to learn if he wants to run a significant portion of my operation. I'm not handing him the votes to lead Waynetech as CEO if he manages to screw up even a single job that's tossed his way. That was not how you handle matters of interest."[/color][/b]

Raising an eyebrow towards Meredith, who was still standing to attention, The Roman caught him off guard with another snap.

[b][color=#686363]"Hey! Didn't I just give you an order?"[/color][/b]

Realizing his error, Meredith nodded once more, reaching for his phone.

[color=#896ab3]"My apologies, sir. I'll relay the message at once."[/color]

Roman hand-waved him away. 

[b][color=#686363]"Do it outside. I've further business to conduct before the meeting."[/color][/b]

Meredith looked towards the door, hesitant to leave his employer unprotected. But he knew it was unwise to question Falcone for even an instant, as Sionis had already thoroughly proven. 

[color=#896ab3]"Of course, sir."[/color]

[IMG]https://i.imgur.com/76xTZSR.png[/IMG]

[color=#896ab3]"Anything you say."[/color]