The sight of blood twisted Riddler's face into an expression of savage victory.

Thought was nothing but calculation--how far Aaron was ahead, how to best get down if the other tipped over the edge--and a cloud of hate. Destroy the enemy. That's all it was, that's all it needed to be.

It took only a few ragged breaths until he could stand straight, a few more until he could move, sending a small wave of tendrils more quickly than he could move himself along the rooftop in an attempt to ensnare Aaron's feet.