"What do you mean, no?!"
It was complete and utter idiocy. Of the highest order, Albert would say. Like he'd come across someone about to put their hands in a running blender and when he tried to stop them from turning their flesh into ground-beef, they looked at him like was being unreasonable before going right on back to what they were doing. What better would represent this current conundrum?
Sure, he'd expected there to be some hesitation on Malcolm's part. These underground fights acted as a way for him crawl himself, and his loved ones, up from the bottom rungs of society to something resembling normality. Maybe the man had even grown to actually LIKE the violence, repeated blows to the head rattling something that made him human.
But all that would surely got out the window after hearing that gruesome story? Of man fighting against beast in a gladiatorial setting where the crowd not only hungered for the beast's blood but also of their human opponent? Or how sadistic and duplicitous The Circuit had been with their participants? Or maybe how they'd literally sent in drugged up fighting dogs to turn them into feral monsters of flesh, bone and madness?
Apparently, Malcolm was just a resolved as he was huge.
"I can handle a few dogs," He shrugged with other the top nonchalance, like that would do anything to hide his shoulders hunching in under the investigator's incredulous look. "You said it yourself, the two contestants were druggies. Malnourished druggies at that. If you couldn't tell, I'm nothing like them. My body is healthy and strong, there's no I couldn't have taken….what did you say that dog's name was?"
"MAN-killer." Albert really emphasized the first part of the deceased canine's name, as though to implant the image of that heavily muscled creature into his idiotic client's head. "You know the one that...I don't know, maimed four people and killed two?!"
"...Maybe they were exaggerating..you know to pump up the betting pool?" Even he sounded unsure at his own words, only growing more in uncertainty as silence stretched between them. The investigator lets them stew in that sentence oozing idiocy, really marinating in their minds, as he eyed the plate nearly overflowing with crispy, greasy fries that really played havoc with his own resolve. Eating right wasn't easy, especially when his own food looked a rabbit's wet dream minus a few small bits of chicken sprinkled sparsely across it's surface.
'It's just one fry, not like it'll completely wreck my progress...Besides, Harley did say it's a good idea to have a cheat meal…'
"It doesn't matter though, there's so much I would do for over fifteen-thousand dollars! Do you know how much that could change my family's lives?!"
His mind snapped out of that fry induced wandering and he turned fully to his client with a blank expression. He'd been very careful not telling Malcolm how much money was being thrown around, already knowing fully that the man was more than willing to toss himself into the fire if the price was right. And with how secretive The Circuit was being with these more extreme fights, there was no way it would become common knowledge in the forty-eight-ish hours it took for them to meet once again.
"…" It looks like investigating the same organization that employed his client was starting to show it's problems. From the very beginning, there was a conflict of interest. If The Circuit was unraveled then the man would be out of a steady stream of income and anything that was told to him wouldn't sway his decision to stay in the slightest. Especially now that he knew how much money was at stake. "Who told you that?"
If he had some insider informer and hadn't decided to share that, then it was safe to say that it wouldn't do well for their working relationship. Albert could be a very petty person when required, and he would just leave Malcolm in the dark until the very end before disappearing into the city.
"Well," Seemingly aware that he spoke too freely, the large man glaze slid off to the side as to avoid that near hollow eyed stare. "Well...Do you remember Bautista? He found me right after I got off my day job and told me about this opportunity… Told me all about the risks, requirements...and the possible rewards. Were you really not going to tell me how much was being tossed around? You already know why I've been working so hard to begin with, didn't you see it right to your client about something like that?"
"No." Despite wanting to curse the used car salesmen and all his slimy ancestors, it couldn't be denied Bautista could read people like a book. He knew how money hungry the young man was and preyed on that to get his way. Because surely, he have to had gotten some sort of kickback for recruiting fighters into Black. And now because of the greed of two separate people, the teen had to somehow salvage things before his client got himself permanently injured or killed. "I knew the moment you heard exactly how much money they were tossing out, you would ignore my warnings and actually volunteer to join."
'You would see this as a chance to further your own goals and with it feeding into your own imagined worthlessness, you would dive head first into it.'
He added the rest in his head. No one liked being psychoanalyzed and being slapped with it unprompted. Hell, he could still remember being picked apart to the bone by some random girl in his old life's high-school who wanted to become a psychologist. He'd never felt so exposed and his first reaction was to lash out with uncharacteristic violence, only the fact he was in the lunch line kept him at bay. And with how empty the diner was, he didn't believe Malcolm would feel the need to hold that same restraint.
"Don't act like you know me." The large man didn't look like he was about to resort to violence, which was plus one to Albert's self preservation. He more acted annoyed than anything else. "It doesn't matter if I would've gone for it either way, it's not right for you to make decisions for me. I'm a grown man and I can make my own decisions. You're not my dad."
"I am not your parent." He could temporarily hold back the smirk playing on his lips, this world probably wouldn't get the same references and it would also much too soon for it anyway. "But you are my client, you tasked me with finding out who was behind it all. I can't do my job if you're digging yourself deep in with them. It doesn't matter if I find out whose the boss if you're in a coma or dead...Besides, if you choose to continue hiding this from your family it's going to be nearly impossible if you join Black. No amount of makeup is going to cover up a bite wound or a giant cut across your chest."
He stopped himself from going forward, feeling as though his tongue was beginning to split as the conversation went on. There was plenty more he could say to twist his client into a compliant puddle, make him see the error of his ways and see reason in all this. Psychology dressing him down to his base components and Persuade acting like a tiny needle designed solely for precision. It would just make things so much easier.
'But when would it stop?'
It was a small matter now, at least to him, but what was stopping him from leaning on the skill again more often in the future? A few whispered words here, a suggestion there and before long he wouldn't know what life was like without it. Free food, money pooling in from ignorant people who fully believed his honeyed words, luxury beyond image and even sleeping with super models completely out of his league wouldn't be out of the picture. But what was a group that had this type of structure?
A cult.
And in this world, forming a cult was like inviting trouble to come down on his head. What if some demon caught wind of it and wanted to try and twist it to their whims? Or even worse, if Batman found out he was forming a cult in the middle of his stomping grounds.
'I would take the demon any day.'
The skill wouldn't just change his targets but also himself, like a dual headed paintbrush marking artist just as they would creating their masterpiece.
[Persuade: 4%]
'Dammit.'
"Maybe you're right…" That growing annoyance behind Malcolm's eyes simmering down into mere embers as the words hit home. Venom, beyond Albert's control, slipping past the barrier's with the man's mind and saturating deeply into his veins. Nudging things along to something more favorable. "Livi almost caught on the other day, I just head it was an accident at work and she lost her shit for awhile..but I don't think Dill bought it though. I've noticed her keeping a closer eye on my comings and goings."
He really didn't feel like being the person to break it to the large man, but there was non-zero percent chance that Olivia hadn't bought his excuse. Especially not with how obsessed with him she was. And with her apparent experience with fashion, there was also no way she didn't notice the make-up that very night.
"I can't say I won't volunteer for Black." The stubborn fighter waited a single heart beat before pushing forward. Probably already sensing the immediate rebuttal. "But, I can promise this. I'll give you a few weeks. Four at most. If you got nothing, or if I decide to keep working for them, then I'm going for it. No matter what. I can deal with some injuries or even maiming if it really comes down to it… I'm sure they'll understand...maybe not now but when they're in a better environment, all this will be worth it."
One didn't need to be a seer to know there would be no way things won't go terribly for his 'genius' plan. How would anyone react knowing that the only reason why they're even capable of enjoying a reasonably comfortable life if they knew it was paid for through the flesh and bones of a loved one? Finding out they needed to bleed, heal over bruised and broken bones, just to afford that fancy dorm? To provide them with the opportunity to brush shoulders with people they would've had no chance of ever coming across?
Even in the best case scenario in which both Dillon and Olivia both remained ignorant of his perilous dealings for years into their successful respective careers, there would be so much guilt and self-loathing involved that they could even spiral down vices just to numb it all. It would better just to tell them now an-
'It's not my problem to deal with.'
Albert shook his head to dispel those thoughts. He'd promised himself not to get too attached his client's lives and here he was about to break that new oath so soon. Why should he care if all this was a tragedy waiting to happen? It wasn't like he was tasked with saving anyone from their own decisions, so why couldn't he keep a safe distance away from this?
They seem like good people in a shitty city.
"If that's what you wish to do."
He could deal with his own internal musings later, being forced into the area of his mind that held those silently screaming face, there was a lot of work to be done. Less than four weeks to dig deep into the internal structure of an underground fighting ring and uncover the mysterious puppet master pulling the strings all before his suicidal client dived head first into a modern gladiatorial pit. No pressure. None at all. Besides, that was future Albert's problem and honestly, fuck that guy.
***
The sun was just peaking above the sky scrappers that looked like hands reaching out to the uncaring heavens, as though to dig their fingers in deep to tear away a piece of paradise for themselves. The air was chilly, having more of a bite than just a few days prior. Enough to force the entire population of Gotham to begin putting on their thick jackets and scarfs. With the drop in temperature, it seemed to match their overall willingness to take anything that could possibly inconvenience them. From a wild driver riding a bit too close to the sidewalk, to the occasional walker moving a bit too slow for their fellow Gothamites. Both examples had resulted in a shouting match that was far too early in the morning to be having.
Normally, it would take a lot more than minor slights to conjure such a reaction but things hadn't been changing as of late. There were no major crimes making itself known on the evening news, no politician poking their head out of line or even celebrities being caught up in some scandal. It was like the entire city was holding its breathe, just waiting for something, anything to shake things up. Hell, there weren't even any news of the 'newest' caped crusader and his merry band since the Blackgate Prison Break.
And all the inaction, the lull wasn't doing anything to put anyone's mind at ease. Even Albert himself found himself growing anxious. Like the walls were closing in on him and he had the same options as a trapped lab rat.
'A whole week, just wasted!'
Things really hadn't gone well for him. From scouting out multiple Circuit fights, to keeping an eye on Malcolm to make sure he didn't wind up getting himself killed and dodging the ever persistent calls that plagued his phone. From genuine inquiries to less than mature prank call from people that had nothing better to do, and finally a pair of girls that hounded him on a regular basis. At this point, it was nearly becoming a daily thing.
Olivia had started off pretty cordial and understanding but as time went on, that attitude had slowly slipped into something colder. Maybe she too was infected by this Gothamite anxiety. But it was more likely she had started to grow annoyed with his lack of progress. And apparently, it had gotten so bad that even Dillon, who seemed the patient of the bunch, started calling to see what in the world was going on. And unlike her adoptive sibling, she did not keep her calls to somewhat reasonable hours.
Now, with how often past-him seemed to really enjoy screwing him over, he could begrudgingly throw up kudos to his apparent foresight. If he had truly put his address down on those business cards, then it really wasn't a question whether or not the pair would be knocking on his doors to wring a few answers out of him.
Add in that both Ivy and Harley were both busy on a girl's night out with some friend from out of town for the past few days, he couldn't even fall back on their tabletop nights to relieve some much needed stress. Combine that with the constant aching running up and down his right arm, doing absolute wonders for his sleep schedule, it had become a near constant just to roll out of bed.
And with his weekly reading coming up that day, it was safe to say he needed a bit of a pick-me-up. For such a need, there was only one place to go.
'Besides,' Albert mused, pushing past the headache induced grimace threatening to become a permanent facial expression. 'It's been awhile since I bothered that geezer. I'm sure that trash must be becoming quite the pile.'
Sliding along the morning crowd, he tried his best to avoid bumping into anyone that had a particularly tense air about them. Even took extra care to hug his arm close to his body to avoid anyone possibly making it worse. Going down oh so familiar streets and passing by small storefronts, it kinda brought back memories of a simpler time in his life. Quieter and less eventful. Everything was planned out by him to take up the entire day.
Swing by for a free cup of coffee, spend some time chatting with the old man before being kicked out for 'real' customers, wander on down to the city park for a few hours, crossing the street to Gotham City Library to spend the rest of day there until dusk before finally making his way back to the shelter for a warm bed to sleep in.
It was nice. Peaceful. A way for him to stay grounded in this world while still adjusting to everything and the structure was exactly what he needed. But even had to admit, it was a rather lonely life. And eventually, he knew that routine would've been the metaphorical death of him.
A small smile graced his lips as he slipped past a pair of people hunched over in their heavy coats and finally saw the simple store front. From here he could see the back wall filled to the brim with books of every size through a massive window, with a variety of chairs and tables neatly laid out in a way to draw larger groups of people and finally that stupid bean bag pushed back in the far corner with the miniature library.
Across the top of the quaint building, Coffee Stains was written in bold.
Even before taking more than a single step forward, he could already smell the faint scent of freshly ground coffee beans and some sort of sweet pastry. With his grin growing larger, he pushed open the door with a familiar chime from that overhead bell.
"Hey Jeremiah!"
Now, being hit face first with delicious goodness was nearly enough for him to begin levitating off the ground like one of those old cartoon characters The warm air, the cozy atmosphere and the soothing scent of ground beans. He had tried to make coming here a routine thing, maybe once a week or if things got really busy, every other week. With that pesky red head sniffing around, he was forced to reduce his visits to something more sporadic.
Eventually he knew he would be forced to interact with the girl, one way or another but this was place was a siren call to him.
There had been plenty of reactions he'd expected to receive from his friend, a smirk for the labor to come, a snarky reply or even a paper cup to the dome for pretending to be a paying customer. But instead, all he got was an anxious look.
Jeremiah had the appearance of a classical gentlemen with a full head of gray hair combed back into a slick-back and freshly trimmed beard that he normally went to great lengths to reign over the teen's 'baby face'. He wore a brown apron with the store logo embroidered over his left breast, with a long sleeve button up shirt and black dress pants that, he knew, ended in a pair of freshly polished shoes.
Judging from how those brown eyes no longer looked so sunken it, it looked like stress had ceased to keep him in it's clutches. Which flickered over him and at the door in an almost warning manner.
"Hello!" The old man replied much louder than he needed, eyes darting from the door to off to the side. "Wonderful morning, isn't it? How can I help you today?"
"Uh-"
"Green tea?" He kept speaking in that overally loud manner, craning his head to the side in a way point. "I'm sorry, we don't sell green tea!"
Slowly turning his head, Albert saw a simple laptop bag leaned up against the legs of one of the nearby tables. A neat stack of notebooks pushed off to one side, and even the chair was pushed back askew as though someone had just gotten up from their seat.
Not particularly strange but if he knew one thing, it was the old man's absolute hatred for green tea as a beverage. He considered it an abomination and refused to carry any in stock, he'd even go on rants as to why it's the worse out of all the teas available on the market. That and there's no way he'd peacefully tell someone he didn't have any, he was a business man at the end of the day.
There were only a few reasons for him to be acting so oddly.
Without responding verbally, they nodded once and he quickly began to make his way back to the door but it seemed his luck had ran out.
"Mr. Jeremiah," A feminine voice called out from the door behind the old man, and shortly after a red head came out with a small smile on her lips. "I've taken out all the trash out, you really shouldn't keep them for so long. If they were filled with anything but coffee beans, then you would've had a real animal problem. Oh, hey Albert!"
Forcing a smile on his face, he could only curse his luck. It seemed after spending weeks avoiding the red head, their confrontation would come sooner than expected.
"Thank you dear." Jeremiah's voice was soothing, like speaking to a favored grandchild. A tone of voice that stood in stark contrast to the quipy sass that had been the foundation of their relationship. "Your bill's on me today, you'll have your usual?"
"You know I can't let you do that." Her green eyes raked over the teen, that he felt like a deer in headlights look, with a smile stretching across her face. "Also, I'll pay for whatever he's having."
Barbara Gordon has always been portrayed as an attractive person in all forms of media, but that was just DC. She stood a good bit taller than him with long red hair tied up into a messy bun that had a few loose strands fringe over her face. Wearing a loose green sweat and sweatpants, she honestly looked like the most idealized 'girl next door'. Combine that with her bright green eyes hidden behind a pair of green framed glass, that glimmered with the same intrigue in her father's eyes, it was no wonder so many people gushed so openly over her. In this world and his last.
Normally, anyone would feel more than a bit flatter for such a smoke show showing any levels of interest in them. Like they'd struck the lottery or been struck by lightning or anything equally as likely. But he would be an absolute fool to believe that she was showing genuine interest. He knew his APP was lower than it ought to be just by being force to look at his ugly mug in the mirror every morning. There was only one reason why someone like her would so doggedly pursue him.
'Really?!' He couldn't really understand it, even after this time they were still looking into him? Was the big man's ego hurt that much? 'What I got out of you was less than pocket change, you could literally earn that back just by breathing!'
Maybe Bruce was certain type of way for spending all that money on a completely empty book, but the guy was a literal multi-billionaire. Why would he even care about something that didn't even reach fifty-thousand dollars?
But at least now he knew why Jeremiah was acting so strangely before, he'd taken the teen's words to heart and tried to warn him. A gesture that warmed Albert's heart, but if she was anything like her mentor, it was meaningless. There was a high likelihood that she'd been standing just out of sight behind that door frame and knew everything already.
All he could do now is hopefully wiggle safety out of this net.