DC: I Became A Godfather

Seeing Adam's confused expression, Edward Nygma beamed with satisfaction. Naturally, he took Adam's silence as a sign of admiration and launched into an enthusiastic explanation:

"Adam, this isn't just simple Sanskrit. Strictly speaking, it's a tree-structured table combined with Thai-classified archives. You see, the English alphabet has only 26 letters. That's just not enough for the increasingly intricate classification systems we'll need in the future. It's far too limiting!

Now, the Southeast Asian language families, on the other hand, are incredibly rich—in both the number of characters and the way they can be combined. Take Thai, for example. It evolved from the Sanskrit-Khmer language system and has 44 consonants and 32 vowels. Put them together, and it's more exciting than the periodic table of chemical elements!"

As Nygma rambled, spittle flying and arms flailing, Adam could only stare blankly.

"Please," Adam thought, mentally cringing. "Who in their right mind would use something so weird? I don't understand any of this at all."

But Nygma had no self-awareness in that regard and just kept going. After all, he spent his days buried in the rarely visited Evidence Department, surrounded by old case files instead of living people. Now that he finally had someone to talk to, it was as if a dam had broken.

Adam didn't interrupt. He simply watched the excited man in a daze.

In comics, movies, and even games, the root of the Riddler's descent into darkness had always been the same—neglect. A complete lack of attention and understanding from those around him.

In the TV series Gotham, Nygma had helped the police find hidden clues many times, but no one took him seriously. Not even the ever-righteous James Gordon was willing to listen to his riddles. From beginning to end, Edward Nygma was always the outcast—an eccentric who operated on strange logic and muttered riddles to himself, hoping someone would care. But they never did.

Then, a thought suddenly flashed through Adam's mind:

What if I befriended Nygma before he turned into the Riddler? What if I could earn his trust and pull him away from the edge of madness?

After all, no one in this world knew the Riddler's story like Adam did. No one else knew what Nygma truly needed.

Many of Gotham's supervillains had once been decent people—gentle, even harmless—before the world crushed them. They went through heartbreak, loss, betrayal… and emerged as monsters. But maybe—just maybe—if someone had been willing to talk to them, to help them solve the problems that haunted them, they might have turned out differently.

If someone had bought Hitler's paintings, would he have become a world-destroying warmonger?

If someone had given the Joker a stable job before his breakdown, would he have become the Clown Prince of Crime?

…

...…

The realization made Adam smile subtly. He let go of his original plan to just grab the master disc and rush back to cash in. Instead, he chose to listen patiently to Nygma's seemingly endless monologue.

Seeing Adam so attentive, Nygma was overjoyed. Usually, people would flee the conversation within three sentences. But Adam stayed, and he even spoke up occasionally—albeit briefly.

"And then?"

Those three words alone were enough to thrill Nygma. To him, it meant Adam was curious, eager to learn—someone who valued what he had to say.

So, the Riddler-to-be happily poured out his long-repressed thoughts, even showing off a few quirky inventions he'd cobbled together in his spare time. One of them was a redesigned police stun device that could directly zap criminals with more concentrated electricity. It was ingenious in a low-budget kind of way.

Watching this, Adam smacked his forehead in realization.

"Of course! This is Gotham—a place overflowing with eccentric geniuses. Even the villains know how to make their own gear. Everyone here's basically a walking tech startup. Even washed-up guys like Scarface can build a Gundam out of scrap parts…"

(See: Batman: The Animated Series, Scarface episode)

Recognizing Nygma's talent, Adam offered a practical suggestion—why not embed the stun device into a cane? It would be stylish, easy to conceal, and difficult for others to suspect.

Nygma was ecstatic. Adam's words seemed to speak directly to his soul. He clapped excitedly, nodding with approval.

Adam, meanwhile, laughed inwardly. He had just planted the seed of the Riddler's iconic cane weapon—and the man didn't even realize it. That was easier than expected.

However, the next idea Nygma proposed made Adam's expression twitch.

The would-be villain suggested creating a series of riddle-shaped trophies and hiding them all over Gotham. Whoever solved the riddles would unlock the prize inside.

Adam shut that idea down immediately.

"Are you kidding me?" he thought bitterly. "When I played the Batman: Arkham series, the Riddler trophies were the most annoying part of the entire game. Every time I got to those, I wanted to smash the keyboard and eat the mouse. No way I'm letting that happen in real life."

Thankfully, before Nygma could go on with more wild ideas, someone else entered the room on official business. Realizing that Adam wasn't there just for idle chatter, Nygma awkwardly apologized and quickly changed the subject. He patted his chest and solemnly promised to personally deliver all the pirated DVDs in the evidence archive to Adam.

Adam wasn't actually all that interested in the content of the discs. Seeing that Nygma had work to do, he excused himself after a few polite words and left the evidence department—though not without Nygma watching him go with regret.

As he stepped out of the dim underground storage, the blinding sunlight and rush of fresh air hit Adam like a wave. It felt like he was stepping from one world into another.

"Phew... no wonder no one wants to talk to the Riddler," he muttered. "Being around him is exhausting."

Still, he allowed himself a slight smirk. "Well, at least I made a good impression. Might come in handy someday... Hmm. I should probably head back to Arkham District soon. But before that, I should say hi to Chief Loeb."

Sticking to the principle that showing your face to the boss can never hurt, Adam headed toward the commissioner's office.

Just as he was about to knock, a furious voice erupted from inside.

"I've had enough of this old man Gordon!" a deep, powerful male voice growled. "Gill, do you know what happened this morning? James Gordon is being stubborn again! Tell me—do you want me to lose sleep over this?"

Adam froze.

He knew the commissioner's full name: Jillian Loeb. "Gill" was clearly a nickname, a rare familiarity not just anyone could use. Anyone who dared shout at Loeb like that without getting immediately arrested must be a close associate—someone with real authority and influence.

It was clearly a private conversation. Adam knew he shouldn't eavesdrop on what was likely internal conflict at the highest levels of the GCPD.

But temptation won.

Feigning nonchalance, Adam grabbed a nearby cup and made a show of drinking water—while carefully turning his head to listen, ears perked.

Whatever was happening inside… it might just be valuable.