(Edited with Grammarly on 7/15/2026)
Albert could just barely hold back the wince from showing. While he did have an increased bribe pool, there was no way he would always be able to just keep throwing out twenties like that. Money just made things fast and easy; there was no reason to try to build a relationship with a witness. No need for him to dance around topics, or really even do more than just wave some cash before their faces and have them spill everything they thought was either common or useless information.
But how could he build a reliable network like that? Relying on Madame Clement's web felt like an incredibly awful idea, as that relationship was entirely temporary. They both knew he wouldn't be renewing his contract after the period was up. And he honestly didn't think she seemed like the generous sort to allow him to continue using her network 'free' of charge.
No, he needed to mingle. Needed to just walk around the city and strike up conversations, learn who was who, and get people to leave tips or news that wouldn't easily circulate amongst the general population. Saucy rumors, urban legends, or whispers. Providing a monetary reward was expected, but he felt like he'd need that human connection first to get anything more than the bare minimum.
Like now, this man, while willing to talk, most assuredly wouldn't be down to say more than what was common knowledge in this building. That was fine, for now. But eventually, the teen would find himself in a situation where he couldn't just call Madame Clements or just wave money in someone's face to get the answers he sought.
"I'm sorry, I've been incredibly rude." A gloved hand stretched out, a tad warmer smile falling in place. At least as warm as he could manage. "Rudy, what's your name?"
"Is that short for something?" The man exhaled another plume of acrid smoke, doing nothing to hide the slight curve to his lips as he pointed a finger to his own nose. "Like Rudolph?"
"Funny."
Albert didn't even need to hide the eye roll that overcame him or even the deadpanned expression sliding into place.
"Couldn't help it, but I'm Flynn."
Flynn took the outstretched hand and shook once, putting far more strength than was necessary. Not just a simple squeeze but a near-death hold. A grip so strong and over the top that he could feel his bones grinding against each other. And from the way he kept those murky brown eyes locked, the teen could easily parse through the intent. A subtle show of force, trying to establish their positions in this interaction. A petty tactic that probably would only work with people from his own world.
Trying such a thing out there, away from the button-up shirts and cubicles, where gangsters and thugs reigned, it would've earned him a nastier grin and more pain than he probably bargained for.
But if such a petty thing was enough to soften the man up, then so be it. There was far more at stake than just his pride after all.
The teen tried to twist his face up slightly, tightening up the lines around his 'mouth', furrowing his brows together and flinching his shoulders back away from the clasp.
"Damn, what the hell was that for?"
Rubbing his gloved hand, he didn't truly have to hide the clear annoyance in his voice. Overplayed or not, it still hurt.
"…" Flynn only shrugged un-apologetically, glancing off to the side but not fast enough to hide that all too satisfied smirk. A small and petty man indeed. Turning back, motioned his lit cigarette towards him. "Well, what do you wanna know?"
"…" Albert faux-glared at the man, trying to really play up the wounded dog air around him before his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Just tell me what working here is like. What do you do, what kind of hours, and just general information you found out within your first couple of weeks working here."
The man, feeling as if he got one over, finally fully relaxed. Slumping against the wall, and even turning just enough that they were facing each other fully.
"We're called Elite Staffing. Primarily dealing with goods that didn't meet the standards of bigger companies like Wayne Corp. But we try to stick to electronics, kitchen appliances mostly. Mostly, we cold call people and see if they're interested in buying stoves cheaper than what's in their local stores. And since you have experience in telework, you can probably guess that not a lot of people are too happy to be cold called?"
Even back on his old Earth, he hadn't met a single person who was happy to pick up their phones from an unknown number only to hear some spiel about some 'out of this world' deal. Even more so if they had been waiting for an important call like from a job interview, hospital, or a prospective love interest. Just getting their hopes up only for some random stranger to call if they wanted to save fifteen bucks on their internet bill or something.
So yeah, getting yelled at or just hung up on wasn't too uncommon. And Albert knew that, happening day in and day out, dragged heavily at the spirit. Until their voices became nothing more than a monotone droning noise than actual speech.
"And before you ask, the pay isn't all that write home about either." Flynn took another deep drag, eating away at what remained of his cancer stick before exhaling and spitting a wad of greenish-yellow phlegm onto the sidewalk. "We get paid a dollar more than minimum wage, six dollars and fifteen cents. And you might be wondering how these fuckwits found a way to get grown-ass adults to work such a sorry amount? Simple, by splitting our wages in half. Half is hourly, and the other half is all commissions. So yeah, they might tell you something like fifteen an hour, but that's only for the first month as they train you."
"I'm guessing they make you sign a contract so you can't just leave after that first month is up?"
"Ding, ding, ding. Exactly. They make you sign a six-month employment contract, and the penalty for breaking it is way more than you could earn in a year. I have no idea how that contract could be legal, but hey, I don't make the laws. I heard the owners are from Japan, and let me tell you, if you think our terms are harsh? People actually die from overworking over there. Fuck that shit, in comparison we're living in paradise!"
If the job conditions were so harsh, then why had Isaac decided to stay for so long? He had to be almost killing himself almost every day for barely enough to scrape by; the job market in Gotham couldn't have been that bad. Hell, even Albert had been paid more by Robinson just working part-time! And Barton didn't seem like he had any medical conditions that would stop him from going elsewhere… so why stay? Did they have him under a more intensive contract?
"What are the hours like? Ten to twelve hours a day?"
"Twelve hours?!" Flynn spat, spluttering almost as he began to cough. Beating on his own chest, while hacking and spitting up more phlegm that splattered through the air. Thankfully, away from the teen. "Are you mad?! They wish they could get that many hours out of me! I got a life, and even those who don't still won't work like that! Only a fucking idiot would... never mind, there is one person who works those sorts of hours."
"Oh?"
He tried not to sound too interested, but it was clear who this person was. At least, if Isaac was actually telling the truth about it all.
"Yeah, this absolute fucking idiot. Guy's been here for about two years and has been working his ass off for this shitty company. This guy voluntarily works twelve-hour days and is basically everyone's doormat. He can't say fucking no to save his own life. I swear I saw this new employee just foist his work onto him for a week straight, and the schmuck didn't say anything! Just an absolute pushover! I can't fucking believe a guy like that is married too! Yeah, it's pretty fucking clear who wears the pants in that relationship!"
"Is he just a workaholic? Or do you think something more is going on?"
"Workaholic? Maybe, but I think it's just management being fucking assholes. This company does provide raises every six months or so, but it's usually reserved for the highest sellers, and let me tell you, ain't nobody in that office who has as many sales as he does. I got a chance to look at his sales and maannnn…I have no idea why someone like that is working at a dump like this! Could be out there doing better shit than this. Like real estate, cars, investments, or something like that. But get this, you would think this company would want to make sure he never wants to leave, right? Give him all the raises, take him out on company vacations, and maybe even get him to be in one-on-one conversations with potential high-value customers? But no, every time it's time for his raise, someone else mysteriously gets it. They say it's because he didn't meet their expectations but...Yeah, no, this information is gonna cost you way more."
"Forty?"
"Sixty and I'll sing like a songbird."
"Fine," Albert grumbled, fishing out another three bills before they were snatched away the very moment he foisted them up in the air.
"Well, you didn't hear this from me...But I'm pretty sure of it. I'm decently close to one of the managers here, so I get to take a look at some of her files whenever we meet in her office to 'discuss my lack of enthusiasm' and what I found was that for some reason or another, there's always some complaint or comment left behind on his performance reports from way higher up that stops him from ever being considered for a raise. It wasn't like this, though. When he first started working there, he got a lot of fucking raises, but all of a sudden? Bam! No more."
"You said he's married?" He could always come back to that particular topic later. "How could you tell? His ring or something?"
"He does wear it, but I didn't really connect the dots until after I saw his wife...Man, lemme tell you, I have no idea how someone like him could pull an absolute bombshell like her! A bit of a plain look, but that body? Lucky fucking bastard!" Flynn spat off to the side, the sneer growing as he descended into that spiral of impudent rage and jealousy. "Makes it even weirder that he's spending all his time here, if it were me...If it were me, I would be taking half days and maybe even skipping work outright! But I only really saw her a handful of times. Once at that company party, and a few other times when she was dropping something off or if they were going somewhere after work...Thinking back on it, maybe that's why his treatment started to get so bad. A lot of the guys were jealous, and most of the women here got extremely fucking catty. You had no idea how much bullshit I had to hear from that same manager. Like, lady, it's not her fault that your tits are saggy or your butt is flabby!"
"Was there any other reaction that was noticeable?"
"Hmmm...Yeah, now that you said something, we got this exec here. He's the owner's son, and I can tell you he has no fucking idea how to do his job but still walks in here every so often just to show everyone who's boss. Drives this real fancy car too, just to rub it in our face that we'll never be able to afford something like it. Yeah, I think he creeped her out at the party. He was staring at her really hard and everything, and she wasn't even wearing anything scandalous. Just a simple sweater and khakis."
At that, Albert could feel a stone drop into his stomach. A frigid wave burst forth from it as every hair on his arm stood to attention. A few puzzle pieces clicking into place, the image growing darker, more insidious and...more familiar.
"So this exec," He couldn't just jump to conclusions so hastily, but it did start to make a lot more sense of what's going on here. "He's a luxury car kinda guy?"
"Nah!" Flynn cackled before stopping suddenly as heavy coughs began to take him. Beating his chest once, twice, and thrice, he finally had enough wherewithal to punt the small bud away. "Fucking things are going to kill me...But no, he fucking wishes he could afford something like that. I'm sure he could too, but his daddy will probably skin him alive for spending that much money on something so stupid. He might be 'running' the company, but he only has power over us grunts. Still, it's nice as hell. So nice that I still see it in commercials sometimes. It's a low-riding, two-person sports car with this sleek frame and has been modified to have a fin on the trunk. You can hear it when he decides to come into the office."
Another detail that just so easily slid this exec into being the man Mrs. Bryany had seen. He didn't want to believe it; this plot was just so familiar that it should've only been relegated to black-and-white panels of a doujin. But this wasn't some steamy manga, wasn't some category that caused people to grit their teeth and become absolutely rabid.
This was real life, and life didn't bend to porn logic.
"Quick question."
"You're paying, so shoot."
"Would you be willing to get me photos or copies of those reviews? Even if getting all of them would be impossible, maybe just a few from the last couple of quarters?"
"…" The office drone actually looked over at that, a lone brow raised as he tapped the bottom of a cigarette box in the palm of his hand. "You...you're not lookin for a job here, are you?"
"Not exactly." It had been a bit of a risk on his part, but nothing was really lost by at least asking. He already had a pretty firm lead, and even if this exec was made aware that someone was on his tail, this face was false. Anyone sent after him would literally be looking for ghosts… No, that wasn't true. Malaya might be put further in danger if this didn't go well.
"You're asking me to do some corporate espionage, that's a federal crime there...And you're even asking me right in front of my job too? You either got balls of steel or you're fucking stupid."
"I don't particularly care about the numbers, if that helps any. I just want the comments; everything else can get blanked out or, frankly, ignored. I'm not in competition with Elite Staffing. That much I can promise."
"...Honestly would've preferred if you were." He sighed heavily and actually looked a bit remorseful about that fact. "I hate this job, hate coming in every morning, hate seeing the same people day in, day out, and constantly dealing with the worst kind of customers. Hate how they continue to fuck us on our overtime and penny pinch in every single way they can. Fucking hate how they've been able to convince me to keep renewing my contract...And as much as I would ABSOLUTE-fucking-ly love to fuck them for a change, I'm not willing to risk my own income...for free, of course."
"Oh, well, how much are we talking about?"
'Please don't be too greedy, man.'
Albert's bribe fund was pretty substantial, but he got the feeling it was going to take yet another hit. First from that WayneCube and now from this. If the man asked for too much, it might just clear through his cushion in one go.
"Since I fucking hate this place, I'll cut you a deal. A clean thousand."
'There it goes.' He could feel it then, a spike piercing clean through his stilled heart. Feel as his wallet began to flap rabidly before it too got shot down by this absolute poacher. Forking out that much was going to leave him completely destitute, scrounging for change and maybe begging Madame Clements for more work. It would be like he was right back to his old situation, first dropping into this world. 'At least I won't be homeless...just hungry.'
Cutting back was going to be hard; maybe he would need to get into bulk buying. Maybe changing his diet around for a bit until the money was flowing back in. Weren't dried beans and rice good for that though? A good source of protein and carbs, which, if he made large enough portions, should also make sure he stays full for longer.
'And I just know bargaining won't work.'
After saying his price, the man had completely closed in on himself. Crossing his arms and straightened his spine. Face being scrubbed into a blank mask. Bargaining wasn't up for discussion; he'd already listed the price for him to commit a federal crime that could land him with years in prison. Honestly, with that in comparison, a thousand dollars was an absolute steal.
"I don't have that kind of money on me." Even if Albert did, there was no way he was just going to admit to it. That would be like asking to get jumped and robbed. "But I can get it, let's say one hundred now, and I give you the rest later?"
"...Only one hundred? Nah, I'm going to need at least three." The man shook his head, scoffing loudly at the minuscule offer. "I'm risking my freedom here, man, and you want me to go out on a limb for only a hundred bucks? Do you take me for an idiot?"
"I don't just carry that much money on me. Here's what I'll do. Take this hundred now and after work, I'll swing by and drop off the other two."
He wanted to refuse the offer, that much the PI could tell, but when those beady eyes landed on the small stack of twenties, greed overtook any reasoning. Snatching them up, Flynn quickly stuffed them in his pocket.
"Fine, but don't try anything funn-"
Just then, a loud roar could be heard from further down the street. Like that of a tiger coming back into its own territory, instantly going above and beyond the ambient traffic noise. More honking filled the area, growing louder and louder as something moved, or more like zipped closer.
And just as Albert glanced off to the side, to the small alcove just large enough for him to duck into, a sleek sports car flashed forward before turning suddenly into the parking lot. Completely uncaring of the multiple people they'd just cut off and probably racking up many blood feuds in the process.
There, with music blaring through its impressive speakers. The base was so deep that it sent reverberations through his chest and up the windows as well, if the way they rattled was anything to go by. The vehicle was a dark green, freshly wrapped, with its surface positively shining under the morning sun.
Sitting low on the ground, its bright lights nearly blinded him as it sped through the parking lot and turned suddenly. Letting out an ear-piercing screech of tires and left visible tracks on the asphalt as it 'parked' in front of them. And through the heavily tinted windows, a figure could be seen moving. Head bobbing to the music, a rapper...but not in a language he could understand.
And without even turning off the engine, the driver's side door popped out, only then truly allowing the loud music to be spewed out through the air. The base grew in multitude as the figure continued to bob silently to the song.
Coming around the front, Albert finally got a full look at the man and nearly froze in place.
The man, or the exec, stood around six feet tall and built with lean muscles that he proudly displayed through a white business shirt a few sizes too small, with one or two buttons undone near the top. Sleeve riding up high on his bicep to expose intertwined black thorns or vines around that seemed to cover the entire upper half of his chest, with the thorns peaking out from view under his collar.
He wore a gleaming silver watch, with a few rather expensive-looking rings on each knuckle. Just practically oozing wealth, that kind of reminded Albert of Patrick. A loud and insecure declaration that he belonged in an entirely different class.
Rising, a square jaw stretched into a perpetual smirk with a narrow nose and narrowed black eyes that held a glint of mischief in them. Topping it all off with a head of blonde hair, combed and slicked back to give him a more professional appearance.
"Fred!" The exec grinned wider, exposing all his gleaming white teeth. Eyes narrowing into near slits as he ate up the distance between them. One hand tucked casually in his pocket and the other outstretched in a 'gimme' motion. "Nice to see you!"
"Good morning, Keegan." Flynn didn't even blink at the mistake and only silently offered up one of his own cigarettes. But despite his unbothered act, Albert could clearly see how nervous this situation made him. From how his hands shook or from how his previously dominant stance had taken on a much more subdued air. Shoulders hunching in just to make himself seem even smaller.
"Good man!" Keegan nodded, snatching up the stick and stuffing it between his lips before pulling out a rather fancy-looking metallic lighter covered in some tightly packed kanji. Lighting one end, he inhaled long and finally exhaled only after a tense few seconds passed. He loved it; that much was clear. Not the cigarette, no, but the power he felt like he held in that moment. The teen could see it clearly as day, from how the corners of those eyes narrowed further in satisfied delight. Looking all too similar to a fox. Turning, the teen fell under the spotlight. "I don't recognize this shorty; who's he? Didn't take you for the type to be able to make friends."
"He's-"
"Hello!" Albert tried to let out a natural smile, but he knew it came out stiff despite his efforts and held out a gloved hand to shake. Suppressing years, upon years of conditioning, to avoid just turning right then and there, getting the hell out of dodge. He couldn't help it; this guy just brought up so many terrible memories. The exact kind of person who got a sick thrill out of putting other people down, luxuriating in that small bit of power that lent them. Almost bringing him right back to his school days. Hunch his shoulders in, drop his gaze down in hopes of not attracting anyone's ire, and if he heard laughter up ahead, turn in the other direction to avoid being the butt of a cruel 'joke'. Despite that, his will came and clamped down hard on his trembling vocal cords. "Rudy, it's a pleasure to meet you!"
Instead of taking his hand, the exec simply looked down at it with a quirked brow. Some calculations flickered behind his eyes before he settled on smirking and outright ignoring the silent offer. Forcing an awkward silence to fill the space until the gloved hand dropped.
"I was just asking Flynn here if you guys were hiring. I have some experience with telemarketing, and I think I wou-"
"Yeah, yeah sure," Keegan waved him off, turning away to make his way into the building. "Just leave your resume with Glenda or something. C'mon, Ned, get back to work."
"…" Instead of replying verbally, Flynn simply dropped his stick and rubbed it hard into the ground. Face screwing up at the man's back as he swaggered inside like he owned the place… well, maybe he did. But just as the man was prepared to follow, he snapped at the teen in a low hiss. "Meet me out back by five o'clock; make sure you bring the fucking money."
Before stomping away in a huff, leaving Albert standing there with an all-too-familiar sinking feeling in his gut. Reaching into his pocket, he began to type away at the buttons. Making extra sure to use the needed extension and finally hitting the call button. He could feel the ring running up his arm; it was low buzzing like thunder crashing against him.
And just as he thought, Keegan's far-off figure could be seen. Leaning over the desk as he chatted with the receptionist, ignoring his huffing employee. His hand reached into his pocket suddenly, glancing down at the caller I.D. before firmly pressing the bright red button on it, then putting it back in his pocket and continuing to chat.
Cold filled him like a vase. A frigid certainty that drowned out everything else. His eyes grew stony and burrowed deep into the man's back.
'You better not be involved in this, Isaac.'