"...And I can't believe I actually put in some effort to look good!"
'For such an ungrateful asshole!'
"For such an ungrateful asshole!"
'Did he know how much it cost to get my makeup and hair done?'
"Did he know how much it cost to get my makeup and hair done?"
From Dick's perspective, it was like he was stuck in some form of time loop. Being forever trapped in an endless circle as his crush ranted and raved about some guy that wasn't him. Maybe at first, during the initial round of ranting he'd felt some form of jealousy and maybe a bit of triumph. After all, with Barbara breaking the date off maybe now he would have a better chance at her seeing him as something more than a 'little brother'. So, he being the fool had tried commenting on some of her rants. Supporting her here and there while throwing Nelson under the bus a good few times and trying to comfort her in anyway he could.
But, it was like he wasn't even there. Like he was screaming out into the void, only for the endless expanse of nothingness to devour his words. She had called her date every name in the book and kept on coming up with interesting ways to curse the idiot's name...but even her creativity had its limit. For the past, fifteen to twenty minutes her tirade had repeated at least five times. More than enough for her pattern to be blazed into his mind's eye.
And he wasn't fooled, his earpiece had grown deathly silent around the second go around. Whether it was Bruce or Alfred, he didn't know. But what he did know was this.
'Albert, you're a goddamn asshole.'
Not just for saying the words he said to Barbara but also leaving some random 'stranger' to face the brunt of her wrath. It should be that guy here, facing this endless barrage! Not him, an innocent bystander!
So now, instead of actively listening to the tirade, he only grunted occasionally when she 'asked' him a rhetorical question before answering it herself a moment later. From room to room, hallway to hallway this was his life. They'd opened every draw. Checked behind every 'hidden' pocket and flipped through a multitude of documents dry enough to make his eyelids begin to flicker close.
It was boring work, mindless in fact. But that was just the nature of snooping, maybe it could've been a bit more enjoyable if his partner was willing or able to actually talk about anything besides her date.
'-nd not to mention, he dared! Dared to bring my dad into the mix?!'
"And not to mention, he dared! Dared to bring my dad into the mix?!"
'Not like it would matter! Dad has no control over what I decide to do in life!'
"…."
'Who does he think he is? My hand-'
Dick froze in place, his mind screeching to attention at his partner's silence. Taking a few moments to get his brain back into gear, he glanced around the side of the red head and looked in the direction of the source. A few doors down from them, in that isolated and abandoned hallway stood two people looking as though their hands had been caught in the cookie jar.
One more familiar than the other.
A tall, athletic blonde in a blue and white form fitting dress quickly shook off her surprise. Those icy blue eyes dropping a few degrees as she glanced over him and the red head, a small frown pulling at her lips. Angeline Gramercy had always seemed like such an approachable girl in 'his' circle. And even though she wasn't apart of the club, it was a near thing. Her mother had some serious power in Gotham and was a wealthy to boot, so technically she could be accepted by these people. Something he hadn't been able to achieve even after spending over half a decade going to school with them.
While the girl...she seemed a bit odd. Like polar opposites, she was much shorter with cropped hair ending at the bottom of her chin. Wearing a long black dress, it was like she was more prepared for a funeral than a party. She in particular looked on with brown eyes the size of saucers. Her gaze locked onto him. And not the in way most people reacted when they crossed his path, like he was some sort of superstar or their ticket out of a terrible life. But instead...it was fear. Terror or shocked so great that her tanned skin grew a shade paler.
"Ms. Gordon."
Angeline stepped in front of her friend, shutting the door behind them without looking. Her voice was cold and held an edge that made his hackles rise.
'What?!'
It didn't make much sense, he'd run into the blonde plenty of times at a few events and she never gave off this feeling before. And just glancing down at her high heels, he knew for certain that before she could even take them off to fight, he would already be in her face ready to take her down….at least, that's what would've happened before. Now? That outcome wasn't so clear anymore.
"Ms. Gramercy."
Barbara replied stiffly, her own spine tensing as they stared each other down. A near palpable unease filling the air. And honestly, it felt like if they were anywhere else then that maybe a fight would've already started.
'Where's Bruce?' It was strange, even though the man had most assuredly muted them during the red head's rant there was no way he would willingly leave them out to dry like this. No warning or rebuke to get them back on track? Far too strange for there to be no trickery afoot. Flickering his gaze every which way, blue orbs zeroed in on the only possible cause of his mentor's silence. Behind the athletic wall, the small brunette stood huddled up to her back. 'Magic!'
He felt like spitting in that moment and only now truly could appreciate Bruce's disdain for it. In a world in full of magic and Metas, what was a poor guy like him suppose to do with a metal rod? It simply wasn't fair.
"What happened to Albert?"
The blonde broke the silence, her voice biting and accusatory.
"Probably wandered off somewhere." Barbara shrugged before crossing her arms with a scowl. "Not my problem anymore."
"Ah. I see. Then have a good night."
Slowly, she corralled the girl behind her. Using her body to block them from seeing the strange magical girl. And instead of trying to stop them, the pair simply stood back as they passed. Each side eyeing the opposing side with a weariness only those that can inflict violence onto others could develop.
Dick would've let them pass, they obviously assumed he and the red head were trying to find a private place and wouldn't assume they're snooping around. So in one way, their cover was safe. And frankly, it was just the better option than confronting them. The primary reason being his desire for his COMs to start working again.
If only, if only his eyes didn't catch onto something. Two small objects that by themselves wouldn't have attracted his gaze...but from the way the brunette clutched them to her chest it was impossible for them not to draw attention.
It was a simply necklace. With a rather simple chain than spilled out of her small hands. A small jade, round in shape just barely poking out. Like a ring or circle. Not something to really draw the eye...normally.
If the jade wasn't enough to signal off all his alarms, a memory flashing in his mind's eye certainly did. A photo, old and curling at the edges. Three people. One a smartly dressed, middle aged man with a thin but elegant mustache. One hand clutching his brown suit jacket and the other wrapped around a pretty women who seemed be in her early thirties with short red hair and a rather severe look on her face. Wearing an orange dress with a small necklace dangling from her neck. Both of her wrists clutching around the neck of a serious looking child in a rather protective manner.
It wasn't a happy family photo, that much he could tell. But there was something that one thing that overlapped on his current vision.
'The jade necklace.'
He'd dealt with plenty of thieves as his time as Robin and unlike Selina, he didn't believe this girl had what it took to shake Batman off her trail. Especially since she was stealing from his best-friend's childhood home!
Dick held his hand out quickly, words already forming on his lips as he settled his feet into the carpet below. And with them being so close, a quick dash and they wouldn't know what hit them. He could snatch the necklace with relative ease and return it to wherever they found it.
"Ho-"
"Watch it." A stiff arm forced him back a step. It was sudden and held so much power that he took an involuntary step back.
'What?!'
Looking down, he had to see to believe. And in fact, it was true. Neither his eyes or body was deceiving him. He'd actually been forced to move. If there was one thing, he prided himself on. Above his acrobatic skill, fighting and even his gadget tinkering, it was his strength. Sure it wasn't much when faced off against mutated enemies like Killer Croc or Clayface, but against normal crooks? He could easy manhandle men twice the size of him.
Just last week, he'd broken his previous record of bench pressing five hundred pounds by over fifty! So, if he wasn't forced to dodge either from bullets or fists the size of his whole body, there wasn't a lot out there that could forcibly move him...obviously excluding people more skilled than he is.
When, Angeline, was not. Her stance of off balance and amateurish. There was no simple movement, or some advance take down to pull his arm out of his shoulder. It was just pure and unadulterated brute strength.
And looking up, he could see matching confusion in the expression of the blonde. Those blue eyes scanning her own hand in bewilderment. Before they locked onto his own questioning gaze and turned as cold as ice.
From behind her, that weird girl began pushing frantically, and ineffectually, at the back of her friend. As though urging her to continue on, that wild look growing more and more frantic as her eyes repeatedly wandered over and around his shoulders. Skin growing paler as the moments went by.
No matter how interested the taller girl might've been, it seemed she valued her friend more than a confrontation. And with one more glance, she wrapped her hand around the brunette's waist before storming off. Her turning her back to them was a clear challenge, something that would've earned her a flying heel kick to the dome anywhere else.
But instead, Dick restrained himself, this wasn't a place to have an epic battle. For his covers sake at the very least.
The pair of them watched the odd girls quickly disappear behind the corner at the far end of the hall in silence.
"Robin, come in."
Hearing his ear piece crackle back to life, a sudden surge of boldness filled him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to chase after them.
"We're here." He replied, brows furrowing. "We came across some thieves. Angeline Gramercy and her plus one. The brunette was carrying off Marla Elliot's necklace I believe. Should we pursue?"
"…." It was silent on the other end and he felt it would've been a great time to actually be able to to see the brooding face of his mentor in that moment. Even though it not have showed much, anything was better than trying to guest the man's thought through nothing but his voice. "No. Do not pursue. Continue with your mission."
"But why?"
It was frustrating, like seeing that cat burglar roaming the mansion as though she hadn't just tried to steal a multi-million dollar gem the night prior. Did Bruce just have a soft spots for thieves? Did it even extend to people stealing from his 'best' friend's childhood home?
"I also wish to know." Barbara backed him up, a rare thing when he got in a mood like this. Usually, it would've been her trying to calm him down before he flew off the handles on some poor thug.
"If what Giovanni told me is true, she is no thief. If she has Mrs. Elliot's necklace, it was gifted to her."
It was a simple statement that could've been taken any which way. Maybe some relative gave it to her or some elite there decided to pull a prank to chip away at the prestige of Angeline….but he didn't think so. His eyes flicked over to door the two girls had exited, a line of icy dread curling down his spine. Goosebumps running up his arms and a light layer of cold sweat dampened his undershirt.
And craning his head to the side, he could the red head equally as frozen in place as the meaning to those words hit home. She even began losing some color as time went on.
Yeah, this world wasn't fair in the slightest. What was he suppose to do to a ghost?!
***
Those hallways that once seemed so dark and mocking, with the endless doors hiding secrets most people would love to keep with them to the grave, now no longer felt so oppressive. Even with those grains of sand slipping away, his mind was elsewhere. While that threat levied his way was of some great concern, Albert really couldn't force himself too care much then.
At this point, with the way Patrick treated him, maybe it was for the best there was no evidence found of his fiancee cheating. A guy like that definitely deserved it.
Instead, he'd honestly already considered this case fail to be failure. His first, and while it wouldn't be his last, it would be pretty interesting to see what the system had in store for him.
So tossing that concern to the back of his mind, he turned his full focus on a case he actually gave a damn about.
'The Circuit.' Somehow, someway, a seemingly 'petty' underground fighting ring had found itself amongst the company of the upper-class. In particular, The Black, in all it's gory glory had struck at the desire of a few sadistic elites that had more time than sense on their hand. Oh and of course if that wasn't enough, his idiotic client had decided to enter that death trap despite giving his word to wait. 'When I get my hands on him…'
And if that wasn't bad enough, there was a very well known, at least to any DC fan, vigilante sniffing around his case. And unlike him, this new variable was actually capable taking matters into their own hands. The Huntress, AKA Helena Bertinelli, was a vigilante that followed a very similar background to Batman. After witnessing her entire being killed as a kid, she was moved and raised in Italy. Gaining skills and experience in all ways that made her into a deadly force.
The start of her story was suppose to happen after being inspired by Batman….
'Damn.'
It all tied in and with the massive flux of vigilantes, she would most assured fly right under the radar. Maybe that's why she's doing this? To bump up her name in the endless sea of spandex wearing wannabees?
'No.'
It didn't fit her MO. The Huntress was known, at least in her earlier days, as a ruthless vigilante that wouldn't hesitate to enact great violence on any criminal. Showing none of the restraint that Batman preached. It was better to think of her as a more gray version of the Dark Knight. More than willing to permanent solve a problem if it came to down to it. Hell, she was even kicked out of the Justice League in the future for trying to do exactly that!
No someone Albert could deal with safely, especially if he needed to get in between her and his client.
Honestly, if he didn't think it would spook the large man, they would be on the phone right then. But that wouldn't do. Malcolm could just hang up and avoid the confrontation while ducking and dodging him until the time limit trickled away. He would need to corner the giant in person and try to knock some sense into him before he got a crossbow bolt in the back.
And for that, he needed to get everything done there.
Passing room after room, he hovered a single finger over each door passing doorknob. Gently prodding those grains, they spilled over each other. Grinding and bumping, they traveled loosely across his outstretched arm. Thinning everywhere else, leaving some to defend from the malice embedded into the very foundation of this city. Even while traveling, they occasionally lashed out in seemingly random intervals. Striking out at unseen forces and keeping him relatively safe from the inherit fate of background characters in the DCEU.
A large chunk of province clumped around his fingertip, phasing right through the material with each pass.
He didn't have a lot of advantages coming to this world but the pure versatility of LCK was simply too easy to rely heavily on. Opening up degrees of success, and failures of course, and it even being able to act as sort of danger detector. Like when he first picked up Olivia's case from what felt like forever ago, just meeting her was a blessing no matter how weird she might be. A personal tailor that he could trust was a rare thing indeed. Even that giant idiot had led to some fortune.
After all, without the big lug, he wouldn't have known there was a dangerous vigilante active in Gotham.
Fortunecraft was truly one of his greatest tools….but that didn't mean it would be safe to rely on it too heavily. The cast on his dominant hand was enough proof of that. He knew all too well how swiftly and brutally Lady Fortune could turn her back on someone. He'd once witnessed a player fail a total of twelve skill checks in a row. Three times it was funny, the fourth they decided to use a digital dice roller...and the eighth they changed accounts just to make sure there wasn't some back-end witchcraft going on.
They of course quit the game all together at the twelfth failure.
So it was better to err of the side of caution. But, this was a different. He needed speed, and this was the quickest and safest way to go about things without accidentally walking in on his target.
Passing yet another knob with no reaction, Albert leisurely strolled down the hall. Taking extra care to walk on the balls of his feet. Barely taking them off the ground in a near sliding fashion to avoid making a racket disturbing the few occupied rooms. This went on for about ten more doors before something made him freeze in place.
[LCK: 35/45]
Holding his breath, he took a single step back with a lone finger hovered just above the surface of the metallic knob. A thin strand of fortune clung to it's surface. Like innumerable tiny hands were all gripping at the object with all their might. The door itself didn't look any different from the endless sea of them. Wooden and etched with flowers and vines around it's edges, he would've walked right past it without even a second glance.
But now? A small strand of awareness unspoiled from it's previously lazy perch, slipping past the material and allowing him to hear a muffled a conversation.
"-nt..he….so...ing...fo...it…"
The first sounded feminine but that's just about it, the actual contents of the conversation was completely lost to him.
"I...n't….no.."
They, Samantha he wanted to believed, received a response from a distinctly male voice that sounded a bit familiar. It was quiet, nearly a whisper but even that wasn't to stop a face from flashing across his mind's eye.
The person, sounded a lot like the host. Adrianus Hardwick.
'This is going to be good.'
He could just imagine the scene now, he could 'accidentally' walk in and catch the two of them together. And maybe even snap a few pictures before being tossed out of the party with a few extra bruises. A straight forward solution that would get this case done as fast as possible.
There were three reasons why Albert didn't do exactly that.
First, once again, he really did not like Patrick. Did not like the fact he was strong armed into this and how smug the guy was. The heir tried to show himself off as some sort of crime boss but he had no way near the level of menace Black Mask had. In someway, it was like he was playing up a role than anything else. That and he felt slimy. Like a used care salesmen. So if he was being cheated on, he deserved it.
Secondly, it would be wrong. He had no qualms with Samantha and while Adrianus might've been less than polite, that didn't mean he had the right to snap possibly intimate photos of them. If he actually did capture this and even delivered it to her fiancee, then what? Moore felt like the type of guy to release nude pictures of his ex just get back at her. And even though laws around revenge porn haven't made their way through the courts, these people probably had some really, REALLY good lawyers. His life already sucked without being thrown in jail and being in debt for life.
And thirdly...the icy hand of dread gripping around his heart the moment he lightly grazed the surface. Grains of providence, some dull and sluggish positively 'screamed' and shot away from the knob. Not phasing through but scurrying away to 'safety'. It would've been a blessing if it was just drained grains...but instead, that flow retracted rapidly up his arm. Leaving it exposed to the cursed air.
In that frozen moment, his mind short circuited. Eyes locked down in shock at the forearm that no longer like his own. Like he'd just slept on it wrong and now it was just hanging there uselessly.
All he could hear in that was the rapid beats of his own heart, like furiously striking drums. Chilly sweat drenched his back, lungs wheezing ineffectually. He felt the specter of death hover right over his shoulders.
And he wouldn't be surprised if he saw some deathly pale goth women coming to guide him to his final destination.
'Her servant!' His eyes darted rapidly down the dark hallways, that had long since taken on a more sinister air about. Only to find himself completely alone but it did nothing to stop his heart from trying to beat of his chests. 'Where is he?!'
If that group of sadists could be believed, even they felt something was off with Samantha's retainer. And if they were freaked, he couldn't be anything but bad news.
'I need to leave, now!'
There was no way he was going to be fast enough to run down this long hall, and even if he could his retreat would easy to follow just from the ruckus. And also, by running he would prove he had something to hide.
If anything, there was only one thing he could do.
Hide. Act like a little rat and skitter off into the dark to hopefully have predators give up on finding him.
So, with all haste he side stepped and slowly opened the neighboring door. Eyes locked onto the light spilling out from underneath Samantha's room and his heart nearly stopped at the flickering shadow blocking the small radiance.
If anything, that only forced him to hustle his plan on forward. Slipping into the room, he resisted the urge to keep the light switch off. It needed to be easy to see here for this to work. The room started off with a short hallway with a single door off to the side leading off into a bathroom. Passing it, he quickly assessed the area.
The room itself was quite quaint. A full bed was pushed up against the far wall, with two night stands on either side. Each possessing a vase filled with freshly plucked flowers. Pulling his gaze up, his heart nearly stopped at his own reflection in the massive mirror atop a dress facing the door.
'Perfect.'
He tried to give himself a reassuring grin, but it looked more like a grimace of his skin losing color as moments ticked away.
Without turning, he used the reflection to check the small ring of radiance that should be leaking beneath the door.
There, what looked to be shoes were blocking the emanation in a similar manner as next door's.
Without rushing, he slung the suit jacket off and flung it carelessly onto the bed before taking a seat on the edge of the bed with his back to the door. Positioning himself in just the right way to be able to look at the reflection in the mirror within himself being in frame.
Slumping in on himself, Albert dropped his elbows on his knees with his face in his hands.
Forcing gaze down, he dug deep. Ripping over the band-aid of control off those dark memories that were forced down into the abyss. Giving him Allowing the terror from that night to come flooding back in. Actively diving into the carnage, dredging up the sheer hopelessness from being nearly gunned down by some crime boss or nearly being bludgeoned to death by an enraged father.
It was enough.
His lips croaked open and a heavy sob racked his entire body to the bone.