Absolute Symbiote Chapter 7: The Riddler's Genius.

Chapter 7: The Riddler's Genius.

(Thomas’s P.O.V)

The bioship landed with barely a whisper.

Its doors slid open. STAR Labs gleamed in the daylight—sterile and sprawling, humming with too much surveillance and not enough trust.

I was the first to step out. The Lasso of Truth was still wrapped around me. Tight and pulsing with magic.

Carnage’s voice stirred deep in my consciousness.

("You sure this’ll work?")

I could feel Miss Martian's boring holes at my back, still maintaining the psychic lock on my abilities. Fortunately, the mental conversation with my symbiote happened at a frequency too low for an inexperienced telepath like her to catch. She lacked the subtle skill of Manhunter, which was the only reason I'd been able to rewrite her and Batman's recent memories.

("Not if you keep broadcasting our plan where telepaths can eavesdrop.")

He grumbled.

("We should’ve escaped when we had the chance.")

("Shut up and let me think.") The Riddler's genius had opened my mind in ways I was still comprehending. I had a plan now. Risky but the payoff would be immense.

Batman, Miss Martian, and Wonder Woman followed. Then a blur of red cut through the air—The Flash, all nerves and half-finished jokes.

“Hey,” he said. “Smooth ride?”

Batman didn’t pause. “He tried to escape.”

Flash glanced at me, smirking. “Nobody phases out of the Lasso, man. Not even me. And take it from someone who’s outrun death—your mistakes always catch up.”

His grin didn’t reach his eyes.

Carnage’s voice slithered again.

("His brain’s fast. Jittery.")

("Speedsters think too fast for telepaths to follow. They’re unpredictable.")

("So he’s our weak point?")

("For now.")

Flash gestured toward the labs. “Come on. Time to fix one mistake. Everything is ready.”

We walked through streams of scientists, getting a wide bearth and less attention than I was expecting- then again, Batman's memories had shown that Star Labs worked closely with the League.

("Good security. Fun if a fight broke out.") Carnage noted, surging with a bit of bloodthirst.

Guards outfitted with high tech weaponry watched from every hallway junction. The walls looked like they’d been built with paranoia in mind, hidden cameras dotting every corner.

We took the lift to the third floor, which was less occupied than the others.

"Move." Bat's growled, shoving me forward.

"Still mad about the Joker thing?" I threw over my shoulder and kept walking, smirking at the sound of grinding teeth behind me.

We passed test labs, containment rooms, and finally stopped at a door labeled: MEDICAL WING 003– PSIONIC ISOLATION.

Batman pulled me back by the shoulder.

“Behave,” he said.

I said nothing.

“If you try anything,” he added, “Flash will have you on the ground in a picosecond.”

I smirked. “So this is how trust works now?”

Wonder Woman answered behind him. “You’ll be free once J’onn is fixed.”

I didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm. “Right. Fix him, walk out.”

Inside the room, cold air pressed down. In the center, J’onn floated in a neural cradle, wires linked to his head. One arm gone—mine now.

Miss Martian spoke up accusatory. “He’s stuck in a feedback loop. Any disruption, and his mind could detonate psionically. I don't care how, just undo what you did."

I stepped closer. He looked like a shell—motionless, locked inside himself and missing an arm.

Carnage stirred.

("Ooof, Daddy dearest did a number on him. I'm sooo proud.")

"Well?" Wonder Woman called.

I looked back at them, “First let's get one thing clear, this is not our fault. Blame Ruin.”

Batman didn’t give me time to speak further. “Fix him.”

We held eye contact. It didn't seem like we were escaping the blame.

Maybe I should’ve run when I had the chance. But I didn’t. Because I hesitated. Because I let The Riddler's idea grow.

"Fine. Loosen the Lasso."

Wonder Woman complied.

I lifted my arm, molding it into a blade.

And I cut off my other hand.

Pain shot up my spine following a spray of blood. I bit down on it. No theatrics. Just necessity.

Carnage hissed, low and impressed.

("That’s commitment.")

All for survival.

("Just be ready.") I instructed.

Amidst their shock, I stepped toward J’onn. Arm in hand.

Then—impact.

Something slammed me into the wall. Air gone. Pressure sudden.

Flash was already on me, bits of my blood from my regenerating hand drenching his costume. “What the hell are you doing?!”

The room went red with alarms. Emergency protocols kicking in.

I glared up at them—at Flash, Batman, Wonder Woman, Miss Martian.

“I’m giving back what Ruin stole from your Manhunter. This arm? It’s not mine. It’s his. And there’s a piece of the Martian still inside it.”

The Lasso of Truth glowed faintly. I couldn’t lie even if I wanted to.

Miss Martian scanned me. Her expression shifted.

“He’s telling the truth,” she said quietly. “The arm’s carrying psychic fragments. J’onn’s.”

Carnage pushed to the surface, his voice audible now.

"Hit us again, and I’ll turn your insides out, fast guy."

Flash backed off, hands raised. “Okay. Okay. Damn. Bad read. Sorry.”

I didn’t reply. I staggered back to J’onn, my missing limb almost restored, pain dulled by Carnage’s grip.

I pressed the severed arm into place, reconnecting the tissues and bones. The arm turned green to match the rest of him.

There was a pulse of mental energy. Then a gasp.

J’onn’s eyes opened.

“I remember,” he rasped.

And just like that, he was back.

-0-

An hour after J’onn woke up, I was moved to another room. Different walls, same silence. No cuffs, thankfully no lasso—just psionic dampeners and an observation window with mirrored glass.

This was prep. For what you ask?

The League were discussing what to do with me. And with the stolen memories and the Riddler's intellect, I knew what the most likely outcome would be.

I sat still and waited for my confirmation.

Carnage whispered in my mind.

"They’re going to do it. You feel it? The moment they think they can cut us apart? They’ll try."

"I know."

The door slid open. J’onn entered, flanked by Batman and Miss Martian. Their postures were rigid, tense.

“We’ve made a decision.” J’onn said. Almost fully recovered from his sorry state.

I thought of making some snide remarks. But I didn’t speak. I let them say it.

“It’s time to separate you and the Symbiote inside you,” he continued. “Permanently.”

He paused for my reaction.

Nothing yet.

("Called it. Fucking assholes.") Carnage growled

“We’ve been developing a method. Psychic detachment. Non-invasive. Minimal risk to your mind.”

I nodded once, leaning back on my seat. “You think it’s minimal.”

Miss Martian stepped forward. “It’s the safest path. You’re not in control. That thing is.”

“That thing has a name. It's Carnage. And I’m still here, aren’t I?” I asked.

Batman cut in. “But you’re not stable. Arkham showed that. Your target was the Joker but Carnage led you to commit more murders.”

I met his eyes. “And you are? How many files you got, Bruce? How many failsafes for your 'friends?'”

He didn’t flinch.

J’onn tried again. “If Carnage resurfaces fully or takes control—”

“Then I deal with it,” I interrupted. “We had a deal. Fix J’onn, and I walk.”

Batman’s silence said everything.

The deal was dead.

"Wow." I muttered, chuckling in equal parts disbelief and assurance.

Carnage stirred, burning with excited rage.

("Let me out. Just one second.")

("Not yet.")

The best part was about to happen.

Then door opened again.

Diana entered.

She stood near me. Not beside me, but in front of me. Almost protectively.

“No,” she said.

Batman’s voice was clipped. “No?”

“You’re not doing this,” she said. Calm. Controlled.

“This isn’t your decision. Ruin-” J’onn said.

“It became my decision when you changed the terms,” she addressed Batman specifically. “When you decided to ignore the rules we built the League on.”

Batman stepped toward her. “This isn’t about politics. It’s containment.”

“It’s control,” Diana replied. “And hypocrisy.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Explain.”

“I saw your contingency files, Bruce. On all of us. Including me.”

That got his attention.

She didn’t stop. “He showed me Olympus Protocol.”

And that was it. My plan. Instead of merely telling her that the League was corrupt; even the memories I telepathically sent her wouldn't be enough to convice her, I let her see it for herself.

Silence.

She looked directly at Batman. “You planned how to take me down. And now you’re doing the same thing to him.”

Miss Martian tensed. “You’ve been compromised.”

“No,” Diana said, shifting into a ready stance. “I’m making a choice. I stayed silent about the League’s methods for too long. I followed orders. But now? I stand by what I believe. Like you always have.”

She turned toward me.

Not with pity.

Just conviction.

“You don’t cut someone apart because you’re afraid of what they might become.”

The door opened again.

Flash stepped in, looking around. “Did I miss something?”

“We’re initiating separation of the Symbiote.” Batman said.

“I thought he was cooperating?” Flash asked, confused.

J’onn replied, levitating. “He was never going to. The Symbiote's influence is too deep.”

Flash blinked. “Okay, but… shouldn’t the full League vote on this?”

I laughed once, short and sharp. “Why? So they can break their word too?”

They looked at me, and I saw it—nobody was denying it.

“You promised me freedom,” I said. “Now you want to make me an invalid. Tear out half my mind like it’s a bad tooth.”

Batman didn’t move. “Carnage is a threat.”

I stood slowly. “He’s not a threat. He’s me. You take him, you kill what I am.”

Carnage pulsed, stronger now.

("Let. Me. Out. Thomas.")

Diana unsheathed her sword and shield. “Enough. I won’t let you do this.”

Batman’s tone darkened. “He’s manipulating you.”

“Or maybe I finally see clearly.” she said.

J’onn’s voice dropped. “Diana. Stand down.”

“No.”

Flash raised a hand. “Okay, this is getting real shaky.”

No one spoke.

No one blinked.

Inside, I felt it breaking open. The tension. The choice.

The League wasn’t unified anymore.

Whatever happened next—there’d be no reset button. 'And that,' The Riddler's mind whispered,'was how you exploited the invisible cracks in trust.'