This DCverse is Maddening

"Are you sure I can't I get you anything, hun?"

The portly waitress asked, her skin flushed with exertion as she balanced a massive tray filled with something that smelt positively delicious. Baked potatoes, a sizzling steak and big pile of green beans. Just the sight of the home cooked meal and smell alone made Albert suddenly think twice on his past decisions, turns out a cup of tea was nowhere near enough when his senses kept getting assaulted by all these heavenly smells.

"…" Taking every bit of willpower, his suddenly parched lips greedily gulped down the rather bitter taste of tea. "I'll take a refill when you have the time, ma'am."

"Sure thing hun." He didn't need to lean on Psychology to know she could see right through him. Not that he could blamed her either. Since coming to this world, Albert had always been a rather skinny teen and being the shorty he was didn't help things either. Those two combined made him seem a lot younger than he actually was, something that honestly made him wonder on the situation this body had been in before he had taken over. For it to look this malnourished, it certainly wasn't anything good. "I'll be right back, you hear?"

Nodding, he only fiddled with the warm tea cup while taking in the ambient hoopla of the small hole in the wall diner his client had made their meeting place. The place was located down a rather sketchy looking street but with the kind of place Gotham was, it would be hard not to find such a place. The outside didn't look all that welcoming either being made entirely out of gray cracked cement only a single bit of life differentiating it from the surrounding sea, a simple plastic sign over-top along proclaiming it to be 'Bernie's'. A cross section of rusted, metal bars covered the slightly tinted windows that made it nearly impossible to see anything other than blobs that showed off how busy the place truly was.

The chime of the bell signaled yet another group of people coming in, their conversation in a near hush as they quickly found an empty booth. This place truly was popular and from the how delicious everything smelt, it made sense. Bernie's sold a little bit of everything. Steak, burgers, chicken, fish, salads and even desserts of every kind. Simply put, it was a hidden gem that locals would guard jealously. So it was completely understandable that he received those weary glances from the newcomers.

"Here you go hun." The waitress, her brown tied up in a tight bun, drew him out of his thoughts with the slight clattering of a porcelain saucer with a series of brightly labeled tea bags. In her other hand, pouring a stream of pipping hot water directly into the teapot before him. The kettle looking worn and used but nonetheless loved, despite the sparse dents that covered it's surface. It wasn't long before the top was replaced, leaving only a thin stream of steam to waft out of the spout. Even from this far away, he could already begin to feel the air begin to heat up around the object. "Now you careful with that, you hear? Don't want to see you burn yourself."

"Thank you ma'am." Albert let out a small, polite smile at the woman's concern. He took extra care to ignore how her eyes grazed upon his gloved hands, her heart was in a good place. And for a place like Gotham, that was all that mattered.

"If you don't mind me askin'," It seemed that not even the patiently waiting customers eyeing her like lost puppies was enough to draw her attention. "Who're you waiting on? If it's a date, then I'm sorry hun, you've been stood up. No gal...or lad? Would have you waiting an hour. Especially not someone who cared about you."

It was sound advice to live by, things happened in life of course but to leave someone hanging for so long without even a simple text or call was truly not worth anyone's time. It was advice he wished he learned earlier in his past life, would've saved him a lot of pity filled looks being sent his way from restaurant staff.

"It's no problem and it's not a date ma'am. I'm suppose to be meeting someone here," Nothing about the woman screamed untrustworthy. Maybe through some combination of how young and pitiful he looked, Psychology whispered how willing she would be to talk. Those bits of crow's feet on her eyes, slight streaks of gray in her brown hair and the way she looked at him told him all he needed to know. She was a mother and probably had a child around his age. The only way she would turn against him now would be if her own kid was in danger. "Something about a monster in a kid's closet?"

At his words, the woman froze as series of expressions flittered across her round face. First that same maternal expression that told him to trust her, then confusion as his words hit home, comprehension as connections were made and finally a blanket of wrath so great that some of the surrounding customers edged away visibly.

"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

It wasn't a request, the tone soundly eerily familiar to anyone with a mother or mother-figure. As to not draw her ire, Albert didn't move an inch as she turned and marched past the front counter and disappeared into the back. It was so quiet that if a pine needle was dropped, it would probably be heard from anywhere in the room. Their eyes each locked onto the upcoming show with eager anticipation. They didn't have to wait long.

"Florence!" Her voice could heard clearly, not muffled in the slightest from the multitude of walls between them. "I know for damn sure you didn't have a kid wait on you for over an hour?!"

A beat silence followed, where some mumbling could be heard but it was nowhere near as loud to be heard through those walls. But he expected it to be some sort of explanation to weasel out of whatever was going on.

"Don't you dare give me that 'I was busy' excuse!" Another set up mumbles. "We're always busy Florence! That's not an excuse and you know it!"

"I'm going to tell you what you're going to do, get off the line and handle your business!" Another splurge of mumbles, this one a bit louder but it too was fruitless. "Tony and them can handle this rush, get your ass out there. Now! So help me God, do not make me repeat myself!"

Her stomping footsteps could heard as they got closer, forcing all those that were looking on in eager anticipation to quickly look away from the fuming matriarch. It was clear who was in charge in Bernie's, as even the cashier made a visible effort to look busy as she prowled back through those doors.

In her hands, a plate filled with a large burger and a pile of fries that nearly spilled over the sides. Those brown eyes didn't even acknowledge the cowed crowd and marched her way over, the look in those orbs was enough to warn Albert not to reject what was coming next.

"He'll be out shortly." She placed the food before him, voice clipped and body stiff. If he didn't wish to draw her ire, it was for the best just to eat. "This is on me."

"Thank you, ma'am." And to seal the deal, he popped a pipping hot fry in his mouth. Chewing between hisses of pain that escaped, but nonetheless it was enough for the nearly palpable rage spewing off of her to subside. Allowing the customers to release a soft breath of relief. Soon after watching him begin to eat, the waitress continued on her route and like it was a signal, the chattering started back up in a fervor. There were truly few things more frightful than a mother's scorn.

It was but a scance few minutes later that a thoroughly chastised looking man came waltzing out those swiveling doors, his once pristine apron covered in a smattering of sauces and other juices. He had longish brown hair tightly contained under a rather hilarious looking hairnet, a rather healthy tanned hue to his skin, a sharp nose the jutted up to slightly to the sky and a pair of dark brown pools that bordered on the point of black. The man looked strong, the gut slowly forming didn't take away from that fact. His green shirt's sleeves bulging under impressively formed muscles, making him look all the more intimidating combined with his towering figure.

Florence looked rather confused as his eyes locked onto the teen's, his mind probably whirling at the appearance of his 'helper'.

"Are you Albert?" The large man slid into the booth across from him, table audible squeaking from his bulk.

"Yes."

"You could've just texted me when you got here.." He slumped in the booth, the expression on his face looking rather comical in comparison to his muscles frame. "You didn't have to get Candice to jump down my throat.."

"I did." The teen replied shortly, dropping the green tea package into a cup of boiled water. The salt fueling his desire to drink something to quench the thirst. "I texted you three times actually. One time on my way here to make sure the meeting was still going, another telling you that I was here and the final one just a few minutes ago extending an opportunity to reschedule our meeting."

"That can't be-" At that, Florence rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out a small handheld device before scrolling through it. His rebuttal dying on his lips as he probably saw the three texts mentioned. Coughing slightly, he had the nerve to form a rather sheepish grin. "My bad, I guess I lost track of time...Things do get pretty busy around here, so don't worry about your food. I got you covered."

"It's appreciated." Albert nodded, even though the waitress, Candice, already promised to the do same he felt no need to speak up. This was the man's attempt at apologizing, so there was no need to rain on his parade. The scolding he received was already more than enough. "Before we begin, do you have any questions for me?"

"Yeah," He squinted his rather bushy eyebrows in obvious confusion," Aren't you a bit young? I know I'm not in a position to be picky given how long that request's been up but…"

"I have done something similar to this and my previous clients have not complained about my services, despite my age. Of course, if this job requires me to handle alcohol, cigarettes or any machinery that I do not meet the age requirements then I am sorry to have wasted your time."

"When you put it like that, then I guess your age really doesn't matter here."

"Good." The private investigator leaned back, keeping the entirety of the man in his sights. Tendrils of attention unraveled their limbs and focused in on his client, every twitch, every lie and truth. It didn't matter, everything would be but mere food for the mind to mull over at a later date. "I'm ready whenever you are… but don't you think we should take this more somewhere more private?"

"That?" Florence shrugged, looking completely unconcerned with his business being aired out for any of the nearby patron to overhear. "You aren't the first person I told, in fact I'm sure everyone of our regulars have heard this story plenty of times already. It was actually of the retirees that told me about the help/notice board. Said something about remembering it from his youth or something."

"As you wish," It wasn't like he was going to take the job on without at least hearing the story, plus besides they had inadvertently paid for his lunch so there really wasn't any room to complain. And so instead of speaking further, the teen instead settled in for a long tale.

"Let me start with some short introductions, my name is Florence Tanners and I take care of my seven year old son, Rodney. It's just been the two of us since…. Well forever really. That's enough background. Well anyway, I should start off to say there's nothing wrong with my son. Sure he might still have the occasional nightmare but that's normal for someone his age and I know for damn sure he isn't a liar. I didn't raise him to be one. So with that said, I'll actually get to the point."

"It happened on a night just like any other, I had just come in from a double and wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed but I am responsible adult and took of my responsibilities. I cooked dinner, made sure his homework was done, clothes and lunch ready for him in the morning. It was maybe a few hours after I put him to bed did he jump into my bed blubbering about some creature in his room."

"I, expecting the worse, told him to hide under my bed as I went to go check it out. The neighborhood had a bit of a history of break-ins in the past so I wasn't unprepared and plus besides, it's Gotham. If you don't have a firearm in your home, then your already shorthanded by a large margin. I scanned the hallways shouting out warnings to the supposed intruder with my gun in hand and only after clearing his room did I check in the closet."

"The only thing I saw was the fact that all those times I told him to clean his room, he had only shoved them there to hide the mess. I knew there was no way there could've been even a scrawny teen in there so after...no offense, just the first thing that popped up in my head. But you get what I mean? There was no room for anyone or anything to be in there. Maybe a rat given how dirty it was but the landlord always makes sure to nip any rat problem in the butt."

"And so after doing one more thorough check around the room, I went back to my son and together we took everything out of that closet. I made him fold up every last bit of clean clothes I saw in there, put away every toy and throw away anything that smelled awful. It took us the rest of the night but finally we could get a good look on the inside...if you expected anything to change, then I'm sorry to burst your bubble but no. Nothing was different. Just a simple wall, the closet didn't even have a vent or anything."

"After finding nothing, I told him to get some sleep. If I had thought this would be a singular event, then I would be sadly mistaken. It was about a week later, I was once again waken up by Rodney. Blubbering and crying once more, we completed the same thing from last time. But still nothing. This continued on a semi-regular basis irregularly, until it got so bad that he stopped wanting to even be in his room all together."

"I was tired above all else and just sick of being woken up in the middle of night over this, so I went to my landlord to see if he could check for rats or something. Still nothing. Not even a roach in sight and it turns out that closet wall faces another apartment building, so there's no secret room or space behind the dry wall. Meaning no Bond shenanigans were going on."

"-I still say your landlord is fishy as hell." A nearby customer, added their two cents to the man's story. "Did you actually check or did you just takes his word for it?"

"And what else was I suppose to do?" Florence snorted, rolling his eyes at something he'd probably heard a thousand times by now. "Break down the wall, get kicked out and lose my deposit?"

Albert didn't feel the need to lean one way or another. Landlords always seemed to fit the mold of a suspect whenever something strange happens. Misplaced silverware, things not being where one remembered or just general bumps in the night. Sure, there were plenty of horror stories back home about some truly disgusting people that shouldn't have restricted access to anyone's home but that inherit disliked seemed to have stemmed from a time well before the age of the internet. Maybe it stemmed from the seemingly easy way they could passively earn money by doing the bare minimum, beyond the initial set up costs. Maybe it came from how greedy people could be, or maybe it was just the idea of exactly how much power someone else had over their own life. Like they were living with their parents all over again, that chaffing feeling humans go as they got older. The idea of being trapped.

And plus besides, in a lot of mysteries or thrillers the creepy landlord was always the suspect. No matter how thin the connection might, they're always somehow involved. It was just easier to push the blame onto them, or a creepy neighbor or butler.

"As I was saying," The man coughed, shooting an annoyed look at the customer before continuing with his tale. "My landlord didn't find anything of note, just some pipes he would need to keep an eye on and maybe some other repairs that slipped under the radar. Honestly, at this point I'm already looking for somewhere else to stay. If I can't get a good night's sleep and my son's getting freaked out, then he can keep the place…"

"Before I take the job," Albert began, mind already churning with ideas. A mental checklist forming, red thread primed. "Could you go into deeper detail with this...monster? It was mentioned in your flier but…"

'You seem to have outright avoided that all together.'

The words were probably best to be left unsaid, possibly antagonizing his potential client wasn't really on his agenda.

"Oh that…" Now, the man looked a bit sheepish. Running his fingers through his locks and shooting his gaze away from the teen. It was in complete opposition to how he acted since sitting down. "My son...has a pretty wild imagination. At first, I wasn't even going to add the 'monster' bit in the flier itself but he went around drawing on it so I just left it. From what he's swore, there's a large monster hiding in his closet. With big red eyes and a heavily furry body."

"Like a gorilla?"

"…." It looked as though Florence had just gotten done swallowing a lemon, a flash of old pain flickered behind his eyes before his shoulders slumped in defeat. The man's voice coming out defeated. "Like Bigfoot."

"…." There was a question that needed to asked after that wild claim. Plenty of people had spent their entire lives scouring all of the North America searching for the elusive Sasquatch, but in his old world the closes anyone got was just a guy in a suit. If a child claimed the cryptid was in their closet, then at most they would've been talked down to and told to stop playing that hunting game. But this was DC, a world suffused with those very same dreams. Literally, anything was possible.

"I know," The man sighed, looking even more deflated than before. Like an old balloon being filled and drained though an endless cycle until inevitably, the material snaps," You don't even need to say anything. How the hell can an eight foot creature hide in a closet barely six feet, or why the hell would a mythical creature even be hiding in a boy's closet smack dab in the middle of the city. It's ridiculous I know, that's why I didn't want to include that part."

"I don't know," The same eavesdropper pipped in, humor evident in his voice. "Big Foot could just really like your son's closet for some reason, maybe he got lost and it reminds him of home?"

"Ignore him." He threw a nasty glare in the man's direction, only a chuckle could be heard in response. "The stories already ridiculous enough without the monster bit. As I said before, my son isn't a liar. Maybe he saw something and his mind automatically jumped to Big Foot as an answer to the unknown."

There were already a lot of uncertainties when it came to this possible case, holes to be filled with truth and stories to be corrected. Albert knew one thing for certain, if whatever in that closet was actually the fabled Big Foot then no amount of salt was going to save him.

'Maybe the creature be frightened away by a camera not ran on a potato…'

All joking aside, this sounded perfected for him. With how well known this case was known, solving it would certainly give his agency a small boost in prestige. Probably not in the way that clearing that entire request board would but more in the direction he wanted to go. He didn't want to spend all his time searching for lost pets, the teen just had bigger dreams than that.

"How much are you paying?" The flier sadly didn't say, a hiccup that made him hesitant at first. Doing jobs for free simple wasn't in his cards, that cushion of cash wouldn't last long no matter how frugal he was.

"I'll pay you fifty bucks if you can find what's in there. Another fifty if you can get rid of it all together." It wasn't a lot honestly but it was already more than any of his other jobs. He had to start somewhere, there was still some money he held in reserve. "….If you find anything..uh let's say strange, any pictures you take we can negotiate the price. So what do you say?"

'Find proof of either Big Foot or the landlord being creepy.'

[Case Opened: Bump in the Night!

Description: Florence's son, Rodney, swears with all his heart that there's something in his closet. A monster in his own words, Big Foot maybe or some other cryptid! With multiple attempts failing at finding the root cause, he has now turned to you for aid! Find the root of the these strange events and uncover them so this cook can get a good night's rest!

Requirements: Unveil the mystery behind this creature!

Difficulty: F

Rewards: 1 IP]

[Would you like to take on this case?]

[Yes/No]

"I think we have ourselves a deal," Albert grinned, it coming out crooked as he held out his hand across the table. "I look forward to working with you, Florence."