Aaron grinned, all teeth, when Riddler staggered back. It quickly fell into a snarl once he started /talking/ again. Neither was making much in the way of sense, but neither cared, anyways. Aaron wanted to talk and also not. He wanted to rip Riddler apart and also submit, because he didn't care and what was the point.

Any ideas of fleeing were soundly crushed when Riddler made to attack again. Any usual fear was swallowed up by a tidal wave of rage, and he resolved to face everything head-on.

He made his own counter to the butterfly, a sticky black net that shot over it and crammed it into a mockery of a chrysalis. It went sharply down, but still towards him. Sharp edges still poked out and managed to strike him--a lucky shot, or force?-- the shadow weapon getting stuck stubbornly in his abdomen.

He lurched back, looking down-- shock. Pain!-- and then finally did make to flee, turning and running to the edge of the building.