Marco opened the monitoring room door, grinning like he'd just won the lottery.
"How'd I do? Was I convincing?"
Dr. Quinzel spun around in her chair. "Oh, you were perfect."
She burst out laughing, turning to Anna and Raven. "You two saw it, right? Back me up here."
Anna nodded, trying not to smile. Raven rolled her eyes so hard Marco worried they might get stuck.
"Childish," Raven muttered under her breath.
"Okay, okay." Marco dropped into a chair, still riding the high of successfully pissing off Strange. "But seriously, did you notice any problems? Anything I should watch out for?"
Dr. Quinzel adjusted her glasses. "Well... not a problem, exactly. The questions he asked you fall within the normal parameters of exploratory psychotherapy. In many cases, therapists need to probe deeply into a patient's inner mental landscape to identify root causes of psychological distress."
"Yeah, but I'm not a patient."
"True." Dr. Quinzel shot him a look. "You don't even qualify."
Marco wasn't sure if that was an insult or a compliment.
---
Over the next hour, officers filed in and out of the converted interview room one by one. Some got a few dismissive comments from Strange. Others walked out with prescription slips for mild anti-anxiety medication. Through the monitors, Marco watched Strange's frustration build with each session.
Finally, after the seventh or eighth officer left, Strange turned to his assistant.
"The cops in this precinct are bizarre," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "They don't care about killing people. They don't care about dying in the line of duty. What worries them is rising raw material costs and franchise fees? What kind of psychological profile is that?"
His assistant said nothing, wisely keeping his mouth shut.
Marco leaned closer to the monitor. "Told you the East End's different."
Dr. Quinzel tilted her head, studying Strange's body language through the screen. "He's losing patience. That makes him dangerous. Frustrated therapists make mistakes."
"Or they get sloppy and reveal what they're really after," Marco said.
Before Dr. Quinzel could respond, the door to the interview room opened again.
Edward stepped inside.
---
Edward wore his forensics lab coat, and his posture was almost unnaturally controlled.
He was the complete opposite of the slouching, coffee-addicted cops who'd come before him.
Strange's interest sharpened.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Nygma. Please, have a seat." He gestured to the chair across from him. He flipped through a file, scanning Edward's personnel record. "Edward Nygma... Chief Technical Consultant for the East End Precinct's Forensics Division. Quite an impressive resume."
Edward sat.
Strange continued, "With your intellect and talent, particularly your gifts in cryptography and logical construction, you could secure a respected position at Gotham University. Perhaps even tenure. Yet you've chosen to remain here, in this lively precinct. Don't you ever feel undervalued? Perhaps even lonely?"
Edward adjusted his glasses, and for a moment, Marco saw the faintest hint of a smile.
"Undervalued? No, Dr. Strange. The work environment here is remarkably efficient. The captain allows me to operate autonomously, and budget approvals are far more streamlined than the university's bureaucratic labyrinth. As for loneliness... communicating with people who can't understand even basic logical puzzles, that is true loneliness. Here, they may not understand the puzzles, but they understand me."
Strange nodded slowly, his pen tapping lightly against his notepad.
"An efficient work environment is indeed rare. But I understand you. A genius' mind always soars alone. Ordinary people can't keep pace with your thoughts. Haven't they ever treated your brilliance as something to be tolerated? Or dismissed as eccentricity?"
Edward's expression flickered, like he was remembering something unpleasant. Then it smoothed back to neutral.
"That was my experience at headquarters, yes. They were always telling me what I couldn't do. But here in the East End... The people here have vision. They understand my value."
In the monitoring room, Marco scratched his head. "What are they even talking about?"
Dr. Quinzel's frown deepened. "Dr. Strange is elevating him. He's trying to drive a wedge between Edward's identity as a genius and everyone else as ordinary people. He's isolating him psychologically."
Marco glanced at her. "Is that bad?"
"It is the beginning," Dr. Quinzel said quietly. "Watch closely."
---
Strange leaned forward slightly.
"Tell me, Mr. Nygma. Does this extraordinary intellectual capacity ever feel like a burden? For instance, when your thoughts become so advanced that even you feel as though there's another consciousness inside your mind. A separate voice, perhaps. One that thinks alongside you?"
"No. My thought processes maintain complete continuity and internal logical consistency. Every conclusion derives from established premises through rigorous reasoning. There's no external consciousness. What you're describing is simply high-efficiency neural network computation, not a second personality."
Strange's interest intensified. The response was too quick. Edward had not only understood the subtext of the question, he'd called it out directly.
That sharpness could be a wall. Or it could be a crack.
"I have no doubt about the rigor of your thinking. But when you lose yourself in those intricate puzzles, have you ever felt the presence of a partner? Someone unbound by ordinary limitations. Someone capable of understanding and carrying out your most ambitious designs. That version of you would understand what you leave unspoken. He could help you accomplish what the real world prevents you from achieving. He would not be a fragment of your mind, but a more complete expression of who you are."
---
In the monitoring room, Dr. Quinzel shot to her feet so fast her chair rolled backward and hit the wall.
"Stop him!"
Marco jumped. "What?"
"Dr. Strange is trying to induce dissociative identity disorder! He's exploiting Edward's arrogance. He's trying to anchor the concept of a 'more powerful second self' in his subconscious!"
"English, Doc."
"He's trying to make Edward create an alternate personality!" Dr. Quinzel grabbed Marco's arm. "Edward's logical mind is too strong for conventional emotional manipulation, so Dr. Strange isn't attacking, he's inviting. He's tempting Edward to voluntarily construct an idealized version of himself. A personality that embodies everything Edward wishes he could be without limits."
She squeezed tighter.
"If Edward accepts that invitation, even just as a thought experiment, the consequences could be catastrophic. You have to interrupt them."
Marco was already moving toward the door.
"Wait!" Dr. Quinzel called after him. "You need a plausible excuse. If Edward realizes you disrupted the session, he might subconsciously recall Dr. Strange's phrasing. That could reinforce the suggestion instead of breaking it."
"Shit." Marco stopped, one hand on the door handle. Then his phone was in his hand, and he was dialing.
"Darnell? Yeah, I need you to do me a favor. Remember that trap Edward set up on the roof? The one with the acid sprayer?"
---
"Think about it. An internal ally who can truly engage you in intellectual combat. Someone who could—"
BANG.
The door slammed open. Marco burst in.
"Ed! We've got a problem! Darnell's locked himself in that trap you set up on the roof!"
Edward sprang from his chair like he'd been electrocuted. The confusion on his face vanished instantly.
"What?! Which switch did he activate? Was it the riddle about 'I devour time but can never fill my stomach'? I specifically told him not to touch the red lever!"
Strange's expression darkened. His jaw clenched so hard Marco could hear his teeth grinding. For a moment, it looked like he might lunge across the room.
So close, his face said. I was so goddamn close.
He forced himself to speak calmly. "Captain, our session isn't—"
"Session's over." Marco grabbed Edward by the arm and hauled him toward the door. "Move it, Ed! Lives are on the line! Darnell's about to get melted!"
Edward let himself be pulled out of the room, already muttering rapid-fire technical specifications about the trap's mechanism, safety protocols, and Darnell's "intelligence level barely exceeding that of protozoa."
The door slammed shut.
Strange stood alone in the center of the room. For a moment, he just stood there, trembling slightly. Then he grabbed his notebook and hurled it at the couch.
His assistant cleared his throat cautiously. "Doctor... the record?"
"Record?" Strange sucked in a deep breath, forcing himself back under control.
"Record the following. Subject: Edward. Displays exceptional intelligence and highly disciplined logical reasoning. Possesses a strong internal drive for absolute order and intellectual validation. Shows heightened susceptibility to targeted rhetorical influence in these areas. Psychological defenses contain identifiable structural vulnerabilities. Interview process was interrupted abruptly and without authorization."
---
"Darnell, I told you not to mess with the red control lever!"
Edward moved through the rooftop access door, quickly disarming mechanisms one by one. The final lock clicked open, and he pulled the door wide.
Darnell stood there, arms crossed, looking more annoyed than terrified.
"Good thing I already removed the acid reservoir," Edward muttered.
Marco leaned against the doorframe. "Yeah, I forgot you took that out last week."
Darnell's head whipped around to stare at him. "You forgot?!"
He lunged. Marco caught him in a headlock, and the two immediately devolved into a grappling match. Edward watched them with the faint, tired smile.
He was about to turn and leave when Marco called out to him, still maintaining his chokehold on Darnell.
"Hey, Ed. Bob submitted your paperwork to headquarters today. Once it's approved, you'll be officially in charge of both forensics and the medical examiner's office. That's an inspector promotion for sure."
Marco twisted Darnell's arm up next to his head and forced him into a salute.
"Good morning, sir!"
Edward's smile widened just slightly.
"Good morning, Captain."