It's been almost three months since the gym. Since Riddler died and I shot Joker. I had enough presence of mind to leave the gym before anyone showed up to investigate the sound of gun fire. I ran straight to Riddler's house, and sat on the couch, crying, for what felt like hours. I finally went into the bathroom and showered, washing the blood off me. I stole a pair of his jeans and another shirt, and I wore that shirt for two weeks before I washed it. Mom thought I'd lost my mind for a while, before I learned to hide my feelings better. And after a while of pretending I felt okay, I actually started to feel better. I get my old Batman games out sometimes and play through the missions, and for a while it made me sad, but not anymore. I kept his shirt, and still wear it to bed. Maybe that's creepy, but whatever.

Joker did plant a bunch of bombs before he left, as it turned out. Not as deadly as expected though – they were full of confetti and streamers. Typical Joker, really.

I miss Riddler. A lot. Hell, I even kind of miss Batman. But who knows, maybe one day I'll wake up in Arkham City again. And next time, I'll know exactly what to do.

A/N: That's it. Thank you so much for sticking with me through this, you people rock.