ROGUES | S01E04: On The Road (Patreon)

(exterior city sounds)

WAYLON: Damn, you stylin’ Ed. 

EDWARD: (pleased) Why thank you, Waylon; you’re too kind.

WAYLON: ‘S weird seein’ ya without ya green suit though.

EDWARD: Well, contrary to popular expectation, I own other clothes in other colours. I figured this would be a trip taken by me, rather than the Riddler. We’re going incognito!

WAYLON: Where?

EDWARD: (chuckles) We’re travelling in secret, my dear fellow.

WAYLON: Ah.

EDWARD: It’s a small distinction between myself and my alter ego, but I feel it’s an important one. 

WAYLON: Still got ya gloves though.

EDWARD: Oh yes. Driving gloves this time, but gloves nonetheless. Can’t be leaving fingerprints everywhere, now can I? Besides - they just look so sharp.

WAYLON: I feel bad gettin’ in such a fancy car.

EDWARD: What? Why?

WAYLON: Feel like I’m gonna muck it up.

EDWARD: Waylon. We’re friends, right?

WAYLON: Yeh.

EDWARD: We can be frank with each other?

WAYLON: Yeh?

EDWARD: Get your big green ass into this car.

WAYLON: .... Hahahahahaha! Aight.

(car doors open and close; stopped car interior noise)

EDWARD: Now then. Ah! It’s alive!

(car starts, Edward fusses with the radio; beeping of a GPS)

EDWARD: (muttering) They changed all the preset stations! Ugh… nevermind. Here we go!

(pause; driving car interior noises)

WAYLON: So where we goin’, anyways?

EDWARD: I did a sweep for bugs before you got here, so I figure now is a safe time to tell you--

WAYLON: Bugs?

EDWARD: (chuckles) Not real ones. The ones that like to get me into trouble - but we can’t be having with that, can we?

WAYLON: No sir. 

EDWARD: Anyway, as you correctly guessed, we’re going to get Jon.

WAYLON: You know where he’s at?

EDWARD: (chuckles) What don’t I know? But seriously, I have it to an almost hundred percent certainty that he took off back to Calhoun.

WAYLON: Georgia?

EDWARD: Georgia.

WAYLON: Damn. Thought he hated it ‘dere.

EDWARD: Oh, he does. The old Crane homestead is still in his name, ever since his father… ahem… passed. Jon won’t go there if he can help it, but still refuses to sell it. 

WAYLON: Why dat?

EDWARD: He only ever gives one answer. “Because it’s mine.”

WAYLON: Fair ‘nuff. So why’d he go?

EDWARD: It’s harder to find him, down there. Most people don’t know exactly where he’s from, since he’s kind enough not to talk about himself.

WAYLON: Reckon it’ll take us long?

EDWARD: (amused) About thirteen hours.

WAYLON: *whistle* All in one day?

EDWARD: Oh no, we’ll stop in Virginia and stay the night there; we’ll pick up again tomorrow.

WAYLON: (cautious) We gon’ stay in the car?

EDWARD: (looks over, laughs) It’s a road trip, Waylon. Not a stakeout. Hotels for us.

WAYLON: Ehh.. you think they’d let ol’ Waylon… in?

EDWARD: For what I’m paying a night, they better roll out a fucking carpet. Pardon my french. Fear not, my friend - you shan’t be turned away at the door. You’re in affluent hands.

WAYLON: Heh, aight, sounds good. So why me? Figured you’d bring the ladies along for something like this. 

EDWARD: Q&E? Not this time. It’s been a long time since I drove myself, I’ll admit, but this situation requires a more delicate touch than my two favourite blunt instruments can provide.

WAYLON: Whaddya mean?

EDWARD: There’s nary a doubt in my mind that our Jon has been thoroughly pickling himself since October; I doubt he’ll be in any state to receive guests. 

WAYLON: Yeh, yer prob’ly right.

EDWARD: Besides, my nerves can’t take the two of them giggling over Jon again, pestering him to say dirty words... or read the phonebook.

WAYLON: Heh heh. They sure are keen on ol’ Jonny, ain’t they?

EDWARD: (unimpressed) Yes, they are; damned if I know why. Regardless, the two of them are fine staying in Gotham, overseeing my apartment renovations.

WAYLON: You gettin’ your place fixed up?

EDWARD: Oh right, I hadn’t told you. After the unholy mess that Karlo made of my apartment when he threw his little tantrum, it needed drastic repairs. I couldn’t get to it sooner, being stuck in Arkham. However - it shall soon be exponentially better than before.

WAYLON: Hey Eddie?

EDWARD: Yes, Waylon?

WAYLON: Ya think Jonny won’t be happy to see us?

EDWARD: It’s… complicated. 

WAYLON: Howzat?

EDWARD: He likely won’t be happy to see me, because he never is. 

WAYLON: ‘M sure yer just bein’ hard on yerself, Eddie.

EDWARD: You’re a good soul, Waylon, but my face annoys him. (snickers) Must be these devilish good looks. But never fear, I’m sure he’ll just be surprised to see you.

WAYLON: We’ll remind him about l’il Ikky too, I reckon.

EDWARD: (pause) Yes. That is a possibility.

WAYLON: Poor Jonny. I mean, I hadta let my chirruns go, but I can’t imagine losin’ ‘em.

EDWARD: (with some effort) Waylon, I can’t lie to you. Ichabod… isn’t dead.

WAYLON: Come again? 

EDWARD: New evidence suggests Theft. Rules out Murder.

WAYLON: You lost me.

EDWARD: Someone planted a fake bird so they could see what kind of reaction they could get out of Jon.

WAYLON: Now who’d go’n do a thing like that?

EDWARD: I don’t know yet. But I will find out.

WAYLON: So where she at?

EDWARD: (frustrated sigh) I am loath to admit that's another thing I don’t know. I’ll find that out when I get some time - but as of right now, I have to focus on King Cobblepot’s quest to fetch the knight-errant.

WAYLON: I still remember the singin’... Could hear it clear as day in the pipes.

EDWARD: I’m sure it was… effective.

WAYLON: I din’t come help. Sorry, Eddie.

EDWARD: (resigned) It’s alright, Waylon.

WAYLON: I just… you know how people get wit’ me. 

EDWARD: Prejudiced?

WAYLON: Bolton was a… well, there aint no good Christian word for what that man was. He’da had the guards shoot me soon as seein’ me. Hadta keep my fam’ly safe.

EDWARD: Think nothing of it. All things considered, it turned out about as well as I could have expected.

WAYLON: But Jonboy sure will be happy to hear his li’l Ikky is okay!

EDWARD: …

WAYLON: Right?

EDWARD: Waylon, I’m not going to tell Jon that Ichabod is alive. And I’d appreciate it if you could keep it to yourself, too.

WAYLON: … You want me to lie to Jonny?

EDWARD: It’s not lying, it’s - not telling all the facts.

WAYLON: That don’t sit right, Ed..

EDWARD: Waylon, I’m not doing this to be spiteful to Jon, though goodness knows no one would blame me, at this point. No, I’m doing this because I don’t know where Ichabod is.

WAYLON: Then let Jon find her - you know he would.

EDWARD: (emphatic) Oh, I know. The moment we tell him that Ichabod is alive, he’ll put all of Gotham City to the torch to find where she is. And if he doesn’t find her in Gotham City, he’ll blaze a path across the country until he does.

WAYLON: Fair point, there.

EDWARD: I’d like to… prevent that. I want to know where she is first, and tell Jon after that. Then, he can raze one place to the ground, instead. I like that festering tick of a city - I’d prefer to limit the mass destruction, as it were.

WAYLON: You got some fancy words in that brain o’ yours, Eddie, but I still don’t like it.

EDWARD: Your silence is all I ask, Waylon. I just need time to find her.

WAYLON: Alright, Eddie. But you find her fast. Lyin’ doesn’t sit right with ol’ Waylon.

EDWARD: I intend to, Waylon. Thank you.

(pause)

EDWARD: Waylon, could you possibly do me one more favour?

WAYLON: (glum) Whassat?

EDWARD: Could you read me one of my questions to answer?

WAYLON: Really? You want me to do it?

EDWARD: Of course! I’m not supposed to read while driving, anymore. Questions keep my brain active, so it would be a tremendous help to me, if you would be so very kind.

WAYLON: Aight, where you keep em?

EDWARD: Here’s my phone. Just read the first question off the top of the screen.

WAYLON: Okay. I’ll try. “Do.. you… think… of yourself… as a… m… ma...

EDWARD: Sound it out.

WAYLON: Mmmasterrmind?

EDWARD: Good.

WAYLON: Or… a… person… who has… masssterred… the mind?

EDWARD: Excellent. A mastermind, or someone who has mastered the mind?

WAYLON: That’s the one.

EDWARD: A semantic argument, then. The short answer, my friend, is mastermind. But when do I ever give only a short answer?

WAYLON: (cheerful) Not a once!

EDWARD: (chuckles) Correct. (clears throat) So what is a mastermind, anyway? Two things. The noun is a person of outstanding intellect; a genius. Ah-heh-heh-hem.

WAYLON: That’s you.

EDWARD: The verb is the direction of complex or ingenious schemes. 

WAYLON: Sounds like you too.

EDWARD: You betcha. But mastery of the mind - you could say I have done that too, but I would ultimately find that unsatisfying. Mastery denotes a certain completeness, that something is finished. I learn as others consume; that is to say, constantly. To think that my education were complete, with nothing further to learn, saddens me deeply. I am an occasional master of other people’s minds; the more pedestrian among us are woefully simply to predict, alas. But full mastery of the mind? Oh, no no. I prefer to think that there are yet new and exciting things I can stack into the tremendous vault that is my mind. (pause) Do let me know if I’m boring you, Waylon.

WAYLON: Naw, Eddie. I jus’ like hearin’ you talk. Makes me feel smart.

EDWARD: Now, what else could someone mean by mastermind, Waylon?

WAYLON: Ain’t it the name o’ that game people won’t play wit’ you in Arkham?

EDWARD: (chuckles) That it is - perfect example. The code-breaking game. I preferred to be the breaker rather than the maker; with only 1296 possible codes, the options were rather finite. There’s far more satisfaction to be found in destroying your opponent in fewer than five moves. The difficult part is finding someone willing to play. It’s like when Oswald has to bribe people to play Monopoly with him - and thus winning before the game even starts. (laughs) Now, what else has masterminds?

WAYLON: Hmm…

EDWARD: Oh yes, there was another. That personality spectrum of which people are so inordinately fond. The INTJ is the mastermind, if I remember correctly. Now Waylon, as I’m sure you’re already aware, I don’t put any stock in glorified personality tests like that one.

WAYLON: O’ course not.

EDWARD: It’s all seductive herd speak, like astrology, totems, classes - people do so love to put themselves in a box, Waylon. Makes them feel special. 

WAYLON: You don’t know it, then?

EDWARD: Oh, I do. Since I pride myself so highly on my knowledge, I absorbed that particular categorisation. One can only truly disdain something one knows well. 

WAYLON: Heh. O’ course. Now I wanna know too. What’s INTJ?

EDWARD: Well, the letters correspond to certain aspects of one’s character and motivation to action. The short answer is that you’re made up of four composite parts. Introverted or Extroverted, Intuitive or Observant, Thinking or Feeling, Judging or Prospecting. 

WAYLON: Aha! It’s like your mastermind game.

EDWARD: (surprise) … Yes. You’re absolutely right. 

WAYLON: Heh heh. Crackin’ people like codes.

EDWARD: (impressed) You’re a man of rare insights, Waylon.

WAYLON: So what’s this mastermind about? You one o’ those, too? Make a matchin’ set?

EDWARD: (chuckles) No, alas. You see, popular media would have you assume that the mastermind type is always the villain - but not so, since I am not that type.

WAYLON: So what is ya, then?

EDWARD: I am what is called the ENTJ, Waylon. The Commander. Energetic, strategic, impatient, and arrogant. Someone who finds a way, or makes one. 

WAYLON: Sounds right ta me.

EDWARD: No doubt people would disagree with me, (sarcastic) as everyone else knows me better than I do - but I know what I am.

WAYLON: What about me, Eddie?

EDWARD: Oh, you want to play too? 

WAYLON: Yeah! I wanna be in a special box.

EDWARD: Let me just think on that a moment. (pause) Off the top of my head, I’d say you were an ISFJ. The Defender. Reliable, humble, loyal - someone who meets kindness with yet more kindness.

WAYLON: Well bless you soul, Ed.

EDWARD: Merely speaking the truth, my friend. 

WAYLON: What about Jonboy?

EDWARD: Oh, he’s INTP - the Logician. Insensitive, absent-minded, withdrawn - but deviously imaginative, I’ll give him that.

WAYLON: This is fun! Are all your questions like this, Eddie?

EDWARD: I must admit, it’s fun with you here. Usually, I lecture people for a few minutes, and they’re lucky to hear it instead of being run through one of my traps. (sighs) I try to make people a little more intelligent. The world could do with more sharp minds. 

WAYLON: Don’t sound like it makes yeh happy.

EDWARD: Most of the time, I enjoy it. However, people always revert to their base instincts and innate desire for a tacky laugh, so sometimes I wonder why I bother keeping up with it.

WAYLON: Well, I feel a whole heap smarter. Does that help?

EDWARD: It does. Thank you, Waylon - you’re a prince among men.

WAYLON: Naw… I’m a defender among men!

EDWARD: (laughs) Too right, Waylon. Too right.