"Scrapbooks full of me in the background, give 'em love and what does it get ya?"
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TRIGGER WARNING: DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE
ROSALIND'S HEAD WAS POUNDING.
She woke up feeling as if she had the worst hangover in history. What the hell happened? Memories suddenly came flooding back to her. She had been attacked in her apartment.
Rosalind's eyes shot open. She was tied to a chair in some dingy dark room. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn. She could barely see anything but could smell the staleness of the room.
Slowly, she looked and felt around. She was tied to the chair by her hands, ankles, and torso. The ropes were tight. There was no way she could break out of this.
Rosalind's breathing grew heavy. She tried to steady herself, doing her best to remain calm. Her head hurt terribly. She furrowed her eyebrows and could feel dried blood crack on her forehead. A stinging feeling told her that the cut reopened and she felt fresh blood drip down her face.
"Oh good, you're awake."
A light turned on behind her. Rosalind's head whipped around, straining to see who it was. But she already knew.
Standing in the doorway, masked and holding her idea book, was the Riddler. He was flipping through the book with intrigue.
"I was beginning to think you would take too long and this whole thing would be ruined." he said, walking around to the front of her. "It's so nice to properly meet you."
Rosalind got a better look of the room with the light. It looked an old hotel room that hadn't been used in years. There were a few abandoned ones in Gotham so it was impossible to know if it was one of them. Or maybe it wasn't one at all, he could just live like this.
She looked down at her restraints and noticed wires intertwined with the ropes that tied her to the chair. They wrapped around the rest of the chair and slithered behind her where she couldn't see. She looked back up at the Riddler. He had gone back to flipping through her idea book.
Behind him Rosalind noticed a phone set up on a tripod. She guessed she would be featured in one of his videos in a bit. She would have to stall as long as she could if she wanted to live. Bruce would find her. Someone, anyone, would find her. She would get out of here. She had to.
"These are really good," He said, looking up from the book. "If you ever write them I'd definitely buy them. You know I might hold onto this as a souvenir."
"Why am I here?" Rosalind asked.
"Can I just say," He said, snapping the book closed. "I am a massive fan. I've been following you since Divinity. I have alllllll your books."
