DC: I Became A Godfather

The Riddler was no ordinary villain in Gotham.

Real name: Edward Nygma.

In his own words: "The highest IQ on Earth belongs to me."

That might have been a stretch.

Sure, he said it often. But most of the time—especially when facing Batman—he ended up physically pummeled and mentally humiliated. Still, that never stopped him. Every time he returned to the stage, he made a show of it—leaving riddles, puzzles, and arrogant clues like calling cards, practically begging someone to chase him down.

Edward had no superpowers. What he had was ego. Theatrics. Narcissism dressed in green, accented with question marks. His crimes were high-profile by design, executed with a cocktail of clever gadgets and even cleverer riddles. His most notable win? Pre-reboot: Batman: Hush, where he orchestrated a grand conspiracy involving nearly every villain in Gotham—and even got the upper hand on Superman. For once, he was more than just a nuisance.

Post-reboot, Batman: Zero Year saw him seize control of Gotham entirely.

Two big career highlights.

The rest? Riddles—lots of them. Lame ones. Plastered across the city. Annoying ones that even Gotham's criminals wanted to ignore.

But now Adam had no room to look down on him.

Not when he was broke and the Black Mask's street rats didn't take him seriously. Especially, not when a single wrong move could get him squashed like a roach.

If the Riddler wanted to mess with him… he wouldn't survive the riddle, let alone the punchline.

That thought alone made Adam break out in a cold sweat.

Still, maybe it wasn't that Edward Nygma. Maybe this guy just had the same name.

The timelines were fuzzy. The Riddler wasn't supposed to go full supervillain until after Batman debuted.

And Batman wasn't here—yet.

Just to be safe, Adam tested the waters.

"What's yours, but others use it more than you?"

He kept his tone light, casual. Like he'd just come up with a riddle for fun.

If this guy was really the Riddler…

He'd bite.

Edward's face lit up like a kid finding a puzzle under the Christmas tree.

"Name! The answer's name. Oh, that's a quality one—classic structure, nice misdirect. I like it."

Adam inwardly rolled his eyes.

Of course the guy recognized it. It was straight from Assault on Arkham—Riddler's own riddle, pitched to Amanda Waller. This guy was the real deal.

And Adam had just waved a red flag at a charging bull.

"Adam," Edward said, still smiling. "Fun as that was, you still can't check out another DVD."

He gave an exaggerated pout.

"You know the rules. The evidence section is off-limits. We already bent them once. If I hand you another one today, I'll be the one in trouble when the higher-ups come sniffing."

Adam blinked.

This was the same man who gleefully tangoed with Batman while leaving cryptic taunts across rooftops?

He looked Edward over. No twitch. No evil smirk. Just a polite, if annoyingly smug, bureaucrat in a well-pressed suit.

"Wait," Adam asked, frowning. "You're really Edward Nygma?"

Edward grinned, like someone trying to be patient with a toddler.

"Guaranteed genuine. As you can see, I work here in the Evidence and Chemical Storage Department. Sometimes I fill in as a forensic examiner too—our usual doctors drink like fish and write autopsy reports that look like spilled beer. Call me Ed."

Adam had read enough comics to know that Riddler had different past lives in different timelines.

Postal worker. Biotech researcher.

In the Gotham TV show, he was just a quiet guy in the GCPD. One thing they all had in common? Before the madness… Edward Nygma was always overlooked. Intelligent. Isolated. Treated like a nobody.

Adam sighed.

"Well, Ed, I think there's a misunderstanding." He pulled a slip from his pocket. "I've got a warrant from Director Loeb. I'm cleared to access evidence related to the pirate disc operation in Arkham District."

Edward raised an eyebrow and leaned in, squinting at the document.

"Huh. That's… strange." He scratched his head. "Loeb actually signed off on this? What is this—some kind of special benefit for lonely cops? A sanctioned porn allowance?"

Adam stared.

That was… Bold.

Most people would just think that. Ed said it right to his face. No filter.

It was obvious now why a guy like this was stuck watching over dusty shelves and contraband DVDs instead of running his own lab. All the brains, zero social calibration.

"Turn right," Edward said, waving toward a narrow corridor. "Second shelf row. Marked with a Thai question mark."

Adam froze mid-step.

"Wait… hold on. What did you just say?"

"Thai question mark," Edward repeated cheerfully, already pulling out two cups and beginning to boil water. "Tea. A drink all Orientals like. And yes, that's the riddle: 'A blooming plant in water.' Want to take a stab?"

Adam was too stunned to guess.

"You labeled the shelves… with Thai letters?"

He blinked hard, then muttered under his breath, "Are you kidding me? Who the hell's supposed to read that?"