The atmosphere of the orphanage was thick with an eerie tension, each creak of the floorboards echoing like a ghostly whisper. The dilapidated building seemed to loom over them, its walls steeped in memories of joy long forgotten. In this desolate place, the air was heavy, as if the structure itself was waiting, holding its breath.

Suddenly, a flicker of light cut through the darkness. An old screen crackled to life, displaying a vivid green exclamation mark that pierced through the gloom like a warning. It was Edward Nygma, the Riddler, appearing larger than life, his presence commanding even through the flickering pixels.

"Ah, here you are!" he exclaimed, his voice bubbling with excitement, each word dripping with theatrical flair.

"You know who I am. Everyone does. But Bat? No. He is too busy. And if the Dark Knight won’t see me, then it’s up to you to open his eyes." His tone shifted, growing darker, more sinister.

"This is where the game begins. It's not a game for amusement; it's a demonstration. Even the seemingly insignificant can become a vessel of truth. My truth."

With a flourish, he gestured as if conducting an invisible orchestra, his smile broadening.

"Welcome to my sanctuary of logic, my arena of fear and freedom! You are the first key. And you will give him the message. It's simple. It's brilliant. It's my way."