(Edited with Grammarly on 7/22/2026)
Albert darted into a nearby alleyway, taking cover behind a forgotten dumpster. Leaning forward on his forearms, he tried to instill some level of warmth back into himself. Not in the physical way either, more in that detached way that made him feel as if he was floating slightly above everything. Looking down at the situation like he was some uncaring observer.
He couldn't help it...he just felt so out of his depth here. There were some past cases he'd done that only alluded to actual sexual assault, and usually he was far enough away from it all that he could...not pretend that it didn't happen, but more like take comfort in the ambiguity.
'I'm a piece of work, aren't I?'
Even thinking like that, having that internal voice so poignantly bring up his past thought process, was enough to bring some heat to his cheeks.
Shame. Shame. Shame. Shame.
The chant was clear, an amalgamation of all the voices he'd heard in that really all coming together to point a gnarled finger in his face. Poking directly at some part of himself that made him want to curl in on himself.
He'd been contented with being a bystander to that part of the world, all too eager to look the other way and not investigate too deeply into any assumptions or particular theories too much for him if he just washed his hands of it entirely.
Even with Chelsea, he'd only been able to act because it was in the heat of the moment. She'd just gotten done laying her plan out to him, and he wasn't provided even a moment to think. The decision, while his own, also wasn't. If he had known about the plan earlier, given time to think things over, he would've gone about the situation directly. Would've tried to circumvent her attempts, undermine her plan by either swapping the pills for something harmless or just running interference the entire night not to give her a chance.
Actually standing his ground and confronting her like that wouldn't have ever been an option...and that's a flaw on him. His cowardice, that people-pleaser mentality of his, and that aversion to conflict that sunk its claws so deep into him that even traveling across an indescribable distance and time just to reach this world did nothing to loosen them.
And now? After being given the chance to think of innumerable ways to try and help, his mind just kept coming up blank. Roadblock after roadblock just kept popping up to cut off any plans before they were ever given the chance to take flight.
'You could...just kill him.' A sinister voice rasped, long cold fingers seeming to dig into his shoulders as something massive and...inhuman hunched over him. Its breath sent goosebumps to sprout across his neck.'Who would miss a rapist? The world would be better off with one more gone….Besides, hiding a body would be child's play here in Gotham. People go missing and wind up dead every day...what's one more?'
'N-no!' He shook off that grip, falling into another pacing session just to avoid that...thing from getting its grubby hands on him again. It didn't matter if that would solve everything swiftly and cleanly...He did have a pretty strong underworld connection, but then again, that would put him in so much debt with Madame Clements that she would essentially own him. He knew he was being naive, stubborn, or even stuck-up really to believe himself capable of living through this world without taking a life. It was going to happen, eventually. But that was future Albert's responsibility, not his. Because frankly, that guy sucked.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone. Scrolling through the slowly growing list before his eyes landed on one number he'd never really considered calling. Just looking at it brought memories of glimmering green eyes and fiery red hair.
He could go to Barbara, could present all the evidence he had on this guy and hope for the best. And even if the evidence he found was inconclusive for the police, the Bat Family wasn't constrained by those same limitations.
'I'll call you Plan B.'
Scrolling past, his eyes finally found the number he needed. Dialing, he silently tapped his feet as the ringing went on. Debt or no, this was probably the safest and most delicate way to find some information out.
Trying to get Harley or Ivy involved would be the absolute worst choice; at that point it would be like handing the gun off to someone else to do his dirty work for him. Besides, what kind of friend would he be to risk their patrol conditions just so he could keep his hands clean? A pretty awful and fake one, that's what.
And as for getting Mrs. Gramercy involved?... Yeah, he would rather get in further debt with a Madame than a politician any day.
"Hello?" A familiar voice crackled over the other end, sounding a bit breathless. Heavy and loud music played in the background, mixing with what sounded akin to metal slamming against each other and grunts of effort.
"Hey, Willow." He tried to sound a bit sheepish. After what happened last time, he made an effort not to call her so frivolously like she was at his beck and call. So instead of calling her up when he wanted to take on a few more readings, he often just told her during their weekly meetings. Saved them both a lot of time and genuinely just made their interactions a lot more professional. "I hope not interrupting anything."
"No, no." She grunted; the sound of heavy weights slamming to a padded floor rang out over the music. Even that faded into nothingness. "I was just finishing up, what's up?... Do you want to take on more jobs or…"
"Yeah, that too, but that can wait till next week; I need you to run a background check on someone. There's this person I've been looking into, and I want to know the kind of person I'm dealing with...you know, to figure out how to proceed. His name is Keegan, and before you ask, I don't know his last name, but I can give you his license plate number and tell you that he's probably the acting CEO of Elite Staffing, if not that, at least an upper manager there."
"Sure, I'll see what I can find." The woman let out a heavy breath, probably more than a bit annoyed at having her work out interrupted. Something he could completely understand, as most of the time he could zone out while jogging or doing some exercise and kind of allow his body to go into autopilot, but once someone interrupts that, he almost always has no other choice but to tough it out fully aware of how disjointed everything felt afterwards. "Is there anything else?"
"Um, no, not at the moment."
"Okay, well, I'll call you later on tonight or tomorrow morning if we run into any snags. And I'll be sure to tell the Madame that you want more work."
"Thank you, Willow...I do appreciate it."
And with that, the other end went dead. Letting out a sigh of relief, he glanced up to the sun sitting high in the sky. It had turned into a waiting game, and it did absolutely nothing for his bubbling anxiety, only giving him more and more time to stew.
'I can do this!' He tried to hype himself up, bouncing up and down in place to force some energy back into his stance. 'Just a few hours! No sweat!'
***
"Holy fuck man!" A man's voice shook Albert out of his stupor, and at a start, he pushed himself out from the small alcove he'd been squatting for the past hour. Ignoring how his knees cried out at how wronged they'd felt, the teen fully faced his informant.
"Do you have it?"
"Yeah, but what the fuck happened to you?" Flynn actually even took a step back away; that bravado he'd shown nearly half a day ago was nowhere to be seen. And from the way he eyed the exit a few steps away, flight seemed to rapidly become one of his better options. "Are-are you high or something?"
"No-no," Albert shook his head vigorously, yanking on his fraying gloves until the sat flushed against him. Ignoring how some squelched against his fingertips, feeling both warm and damp in such a way that made him want to toss them aside in disgust. "I'm fine, not on any drugs or anything... just anxious is all. Do you have the photos?"
"Right, sure." If anything, the man looked even more ready to break out into a sprint. Eyes narrowing into near slits as he looked the teen over. "Do you have the money?"
"I got it right here." He yanked out a rather thick-looking envelope. Shades of green visible through the thin surface, an accumulation of nearly his entire wealth forced. All his hard work, blood, sweat, and tears forced into mere bills. Just carrying that much made the spot between his shoulder blades begin to itch. To become clearly aware of anyone hiding in his peripheral vision. Even carrying it made him feel as if everyone silently knew and was eyeing him up, ready to rough him up for it. To be honest, he was glad to hand this hot potato over.
Greed flickered through those beady eyes, a malicious thing that spanned over to the exit. Around the empty courtyard and probably back to the building that they both knew barely had any people inside. It was easy to see how he calculated his odds.
Nine hundred bucks was a lot of money, enough to be ahead on rent and have enough left over to get rid of an old appliance. Or maybe make repairs their car desperately needed. And for someone who made only six dollars and fifteen cents, this money represented working over one hundred and forty hours, before taxes, just barely scraping by.
But whatever dark thoughts bubbled up to the surface, the man ultimately thought better of acting on them. Maybe it was his old conscience finally speaking out or just wariness. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out multiple heavily folded sheets of paper.
"I did you one better," Flynn started, unfurling a few just to prove their validity. "These are some copies I was able to make...the manager I was in good with was busy most of the day and kinda just left me in her office for an hour, so I had more than enough time. Just had to knock over another stack of files to cover it up….Wouldn't you say that's worth a little bit extra?"
The world flashed red just then. Blood splattered and bones crunched. A gurgled whimper and the sound of meat dropping to the ground.
"We agreed on a thousand in total." Blinking once, he dismissed the violent image. Unclenching his fists, he tried to shake off the urge. Looking at it from the man's perspective, it made some sense to try and ask for more, as originally he'd only expected to get some low-quality photos but to actually get copies? Yeah, those were far more valuable. That and it was probably extremely risky for him as well. So it was understandable, human even. But no matter how understandable or human it might be, it was him who set the price, and he wasn't even willing to negotiate on it either. "You should've asked for more before I went ahead and pulled this much out."
"Well, I'm asking for more now. I'm risking a lot here, and no matter how much I hate this job, hate this company, I'm still risking my income for you...Slide me an extra five hundred, and we'll be squared."
"…" Albert looked at him just then, eyes growing flat as could be through the mask. Okay, maybe before he was willing to be understanding, but now? This guy was just trying to screw him over. Scam him even. And from how relaxed and confident the man was, he probably thought himself to have the high ground. "No. You already took the initial hundred, and I brought the full nine up front to prove how sincere I'm being. Besides, you already got a lot of money out of me even before this deal. You're still making out by a lot."
"I already said all I'm going to say." He crossed his arms petulantly, a nasty grin across his face. The man was clearly enjoying this small amount of power he could leverage over someone else. A petty thing really. Sighing, he folded the sheets back and made to stuff them back into his pocket. "But since you already brought the nine...why don't you just leave it here with me and we can meet up tonight or tomorrow while you scrounge up the rest?"
"...Are you sure this is how you want to play it?"
This was going to be his last chance; the teen already went out on a limb bringing all this money with him. Been willing to almost completely drain his funds just to cut the connection between them cleanly. So that both parties could leave this feeling like neither of them had gotten the shorter end of the stick, but just because he was willing to show some goodwill here that didn't mean he would just allow himself to be jerked around like this. That simmering anger bubbling up to the surface, just waiting for the pressure to reach critical before exploding out into the world.
"I don't know what kind of shit all this is," Flynn grinned wider, straightening his back further to look down his nose at him. "But I know it's gotta be pretty fucking valuable if someone's willing to pay over a thousand bucks for it. Actually, make it two thousand! Yeah, yeah, give me that, and I'll hand these over!"
And in that moment, the teen knew this was going to be a repeat situation. Even if he did bend a knee here, the price would just keep on rising higher and higher until the man got bored. He could negotiate, could use his split tongue to lambaste him…but at this point, he was so goddamned tired. Tired of wandering the same streets again and again, tired of barely getting any sleep and just so tired of this city. Gotham just seemed to spawn the worst type of people, and he could feel it infecting him. Could feel his patience being worn down to a few fragile strands.
He'd dealt with angry parents, greedy pawn shop owners, deceitful clients, literal ghosts, stubborn fighters, slap-happy red heads, predatory women, and literal kidnappers. But this guy...someone who normally couldn't even be picked out in the middle of a crowd, an office drone who never even faced even a fraction of what he'd seen, was what finally made him snap.
"Disappointing." Reaching into his inner pocket, Albert hesitated for but a moment before whipping out his trusty iron. Feeling weighty and all too familiar. Its pinkish-white grip sat somewhat comfortably in his palm, not perfectly but enough to not chafe against his skin. The barrel pointing directly at the man's center of mass, not even wavering a hair. Maybe he was being too cruel, too hasty in using force like this. And perhaps, if this case hadn't taken such a grim turn, it would've been deemed a grossly disproportional reaction. But this had turned into something bigger than him, bigger and more important than both of them. Greed didn't really have a voice here.
"…" Slowly, realization dawned in Flynn's eyes. Flickering with disbelief, before finally settling on a helpless but blazing anger that those eyes threatened to burn a hole right through the center of the Earth. Despite having a gun aimed and ready, that didn't mean he just crumpled into a ball. This was still Gotham after all, and it was likely he'd already dealt with this kind of situation more than once. Especially if the way he was already emptying his pockets was anything to go by. "So that's how it's going to be?! This was supposed to be a simple business deal, and now here you are waving a gun in my face, fucking pathetic. And now what? You're going to fucking mug me?"
"I just want the copies." 'Rudy' shrugged before twisting his wrist down. "I don't want your wallet, your phone, or anything. I just want you to hold out those copies. Arms straight, far away from your body, and don't try anything funny."
"…" Despite facing the barrel of a gun, the man still appeared a bit unwilling. Glancing back and forth between the deadly weapon and its wielder. Whatever conclusion he came to, he still stretched his arm out, but not before spitting on the ground. "You're a piece of shit, you know that?"
'I could say the same about you.'
But the PI had far more control than that, and simply bit back the snarky reply. This was the sort of man who always felt like they needed to have the last word in, even while backed into a corner and facing possible death, it seemed. Besides, there was no real reason to antagonize him further.
Snatching up the stack from clenched fingers, Albert retreated with slow, measured steps. Making extra sure to keep his attention on the fuming man, no matter how greedy he might've been, that in itself didn't deserve death.
Swapping his hold, the teen unfurled one of the corners to verify its contents. Neatly typed lettering met him, along with some rather sloppy handwriting. He would prefer to unfurl it fully to check, but it would for sure not be very wise to be distracted now.
Nodding silently, the stack was stuffed carefully into his inner pocket before he moved down a spot and pulled out a rather thick envelope. He gazed at it forlornly, unwillingness welling up in his chest as he prepared himself to do what needed to be done. And before he could convince himself otherwise, he forced his hand to toss the envelope at the man's feet.
Flynn quirked a brow, glancing down at the envelope and back up at him.
"What's that?"
"What we agreed upon." Albert nodded down to it, all the while taking more and more steps back. "I'm a man of my word; there is nine hundred there and not a penny less."
"A bribe, huh?"
"Not really, just a payment due."
"I didn't sell that to you." No matter what spilled from his lips, he still didn't look away from the envelope as if just barely holding himself back from dive bombing on it like a bird of prey. "You robbed me of it, and now you're giving me money to keep my mouth shut about it. Do you really think this will be enough? I know what you look like and your name, don't you think that's worth more?"
'You're rather bold for a guy with a gun pointed at him.'
"True, but Gotham is a massive place filled with over eight million people. You will literally be looking for a needle in a haystack. Besides...who can you tell? Going to the police is a sure-fire way to get yourself arrested; going to your employer will result in the same thing. And trying to hire thugs to track me down won't leave you with much. So your only option, if you want to make it out ahead, is to take the money, forget all this ever happened."
"...Fuck." Flynn's shoulders dropped then, all that bravado deflating like a balloon. And suddenly, it didn't matter that he'd just tried to screw the PI over. He just looked like a man, a tired man just fed up with being kicked. Someone that anyone could connect and empathize with.
Leaning down, the man exposed the crown of his head, and Albert took the open window to quickly and quietly vacate out into the evening street. Stuffing the gun back into place, he pushed and wedged himself into the stream of traffic. Feeling himself squished from all sides as he quickly separated himself from the small alleyway.
Despite everything, he couldn't help but feel a shot of delight course through his veins as he imagined the man's bewildered expression.
'Now I see why Batman does that.'
***
Albert sighed heavily as he pushed open his door. Feet dragging, his shoulders drooping when he finally spotted that old, beat-up couch before coming over and falling into its soft but slightly musty cushion. Ignoring how the remains of his false face crinkled and squished in his pocket.
Reaching down, he pulled out a flesh colored ball and tossed it into the small bucket nearby. The slight smell of rubbing alcohol assailed his nose as it broke through the still surface, instantly dispersing into nothing but a murky cloud and a few pieces of clay that soon sank to the bottom.
'Man, switching over to masks was the best decision of my life.'
Disposal was just so much easier now in comparison to having to wash away an entire face of make-up. After making sure he wasn't being followed, all it had taken was a quick dip into a bathroom somewhere for him to dab some water around the seams and put his fingers underneath it before tearing it off in a few quick motions. Sure, the speed did leave some remnants around his hairline and ears, but it really shouldn't be all that noticeable.
A quick shower to get rid of the excess glue and he'll be right as rain. And afterward, maybe he could get a bite to eat before snatching some sleep.
But that could wait; there were far more important things to worry about.
Forcing himself up, he began to carefully unravel the multiple sheets of paper. Straightening them out, just a glance at them was enough for him to let out a sigh of relief.
'At least Flynn had some morals.'
There had been a chance the man would be doubly duplicitous and come out with nothing more than blank documents to give him the run around. If that had actually been the case...well, he would've been forced to take matters into his own hands. After all, that building didn't look all that secure anyway. Sneaking in when no one else was there probably would've been quite the cakewalk.
But looking at the reviews before him, everything about them looked official. It was dated, signed by at least two managers along with a series of work hours, clock-in and clock-out times, paid leave days, and sales from each quarter.
"What in the world are you doing there, Isaac?"
He couldn't help but let out a whistle at the numbers. The man had consistently worked over sixty to sixty-five hours a week, even sometimes coming in on the weekends during some months. And he seemed to be raking in this company, in his first six months, a solid six figures in terms of sales. And the comments? Oh yeah, the comments were absolutely glowing.
'An excellent addition to our team!'
'Has shown a willingness and can-do attitude to both meet standards and exceed them!'
'Comes in every morning and gets immediately to work!'
'Multiple clients have called back wishing to offer him thanks and urging us to give him a raise if we haven't already!'
'First one there, last one to leave! Admirable work ethic.'
And near the very bottom, a single stamp of approval was placed at the spot where a higher-up would sign.
Flipping through, the same pattern repeated for almost two years. Glowing compliments, steadily growing revenue reaching some rather insane levels. And with it, the raises just kept on coming until something...strange happened.
The comments were just as glowing, maybe holding a bit more spite than before with a few backhanded compliments.
'It's like he lives for the office.'
'He must live for this job!'
But, unlike the other reviews, at the very, very bottom right next to the stamp of approval was a signature written.
Keegan Gould.
Besides that, everything stayed the same, and it soon became a pattern as well. Until he saw another irregularity.
The approval stamp was gone suddenly. And in its place was a written comment that unceremoniously cut off Isaac's raise despite all the glowing comments.
'Cannot accommodate any pay raises this quarter.'
Which, in itself, didn't make much sense. As Isaac had almost single-handedly earned the company well over two hundred thousand dollars in that quarter alone. Maybe it could be chalked up to common corporate greed, no longer willing to share such a massive pie. But the rejections continued. On and on, more and more excuses piling up; eventually, the excuses dried up and only his signature was required to stonewall their, probably, top salesmen.
This continued all the way up to the most recent review this year. Where yet another rejection was slammed into place.
'Why?' It didn't make much sense to him, but then again he'd never truly understood the minds of CEO's. In his eyes, if he had an employee that was earning him lots and lots of money, he would be bending over backwards providing them with so many benefits that they wouldn't even think of leaving. Pay raises, annual paid vacations, and business trips would literally be the bare minimum. Not whatever this Keegan guy was doing.
Was he just...not scared of Isaac going somewhere else? Like to one of their potentially many competitors?
There was only one path he could see working here.
'Did Keegan somehow know about Isaac's failing marriage and knew he was using this job to escape from his home life? And did he take advantage of this fact to move in on Malaya?' That made some amount of sense, but until he could verify it, and unless he could get a chance to talk to her, it would be impossible to kn-
His eyes suddenly landed on an overturned pot. Its lid lay flush against the tiled floor. Multiple books stacked atop its bottom, as though trapping a wild beast underneath. Just looking at it sent a familiar shiver up his spine.