This DCverse is Maddening

"Fine day, isn't it citizen?"

At this point, it felt like Gotham was a giant gag in the DC Universe/Multiverse. The city took some of the darkest and stereotypical aspects of New York city and cranked everything up by a massive degree. Crime? One couldn't even walk down the street without witnessing a break-in vandalism or a mugging. Muted thumps of bone hitting flesh being followed by grunts muffled by the decrepit brick buildings that looked more likely to fall apart in a slightly stronger than average storm. Gang lord reigned supreme, cops and their higher ups nothing more than leashed dogs trained to look the other way for anyone offering the mere mention of green bills.

Just the levels of corruption prevalent in this city honestly made Albert want to laugh at how cartoonist everything felt. But sadly when surround by a surplus of eight to nine young adults each looking more like dirty mutts than humans, suddenly bursting out in a fit of laughter was a sure fire way to get shanked into next week. Maybe with a few murder charges slapped on him for good measure.

The group of strays lounged atop a nearby building's steps, each wearing baggy clothing that looked a few washes away from completely falling into mere fibers. Their hair matted and unkempt, more akin to a thick manes than human locks.

In a sense, they reminded him of the 'hoodlums' that hung around Robinson's pizza shop…except their skin was much too clean. Unlike the near sandpaper appearance those kid's skin possessed, these people's all looked their normal healthy hue. No smears of dirt or mud, nor did their skin rebel against them and form bumps or sores for the world to see. And from the full whitish grins being sent his way, it didn't seem his theory was all too far from the truth.

'Is this a thing now?' Albert thought, eyes never leaving their spokesman. The man...no child looked a bit older than he was now, standing a few inches taller and wearing clothes that were 'stylishly' ripped in places. Or at-least that what he assumed that was the idea running through this teen's mind when using that pair of scissors. Instead of acting like windows to expose bits of skin like in his old world, only a black material with a slight shimmer to it was visible. Spandex.

And looking even a bit closer at each teen sprawled across the stairs in a variety of forced 'casual' stances, bits of different colors of spandex could be seen.

'It's worse…' Instead of laughing, he instinctual wanted to flinch back from second hand embarrassment. The world had slowly been spiraling out of control far before Batman and ilk ever graced the world stage, but now things had honestly only further sped along the path of no return.

"Thank you keeping the street safe…" Despite how ridiculous this was, it was till Gotham and he's lived long enough to know this same song and dance. "Here, take this. A token of my appreciation."

That glitter of greed latched onto the single, heavily wrinkled green bill held out to the youth with two gloved fingers. It seemed shaking people down openly was no longer cool enough now, now everyone needed to be wearing spandex to make themselves feel like they weren't the bad guys. They were superheroes, and superheroes were never on the bad side.

Take this for instance, they weren't using their numbers to intimidate any hapless person into giving up the last buck in their pocket. No, they were keeping their small part of the city safe by making the road their on premium. Pay the toll and continue walking. Refuse? Then suffer the full might of their combined street justice.

Anything to both let people live out their fantasies and help them sleep better at night.

'Don't get too greedy now…'

Giving up a little bit of cash to avoid trouble was a lot better than being accosted by these same teens later on, sure flashing a gun at them would be enough to scatter this group into the winds. But then what? Constantly look over his shoulder as they try to regain their spine through any means necessary? It was just better this way.

"You really didn't have to!" The spokesman, coughed into his fist. A wide grin splitting his face as he quickly snatched the bill out of sight, ideas flickering across those eyes as he imagined what this flux of cash could get him and the crew.

'Mostly himself..'

"Now be on your, we can't protect the city with you being here!"

How the kid had the nerve to lie that openly without even a single blush of shame, Albert didn't know. Nor did he honestly care. With a nod, he continued on his way, ignoring how their gaze turned mocking. He knew in that instance, they would try to pull something on his way back here. They considered him an easy mark, a cash flow to be milked of everything before being tossed to the side. Like a soaked sponge.

An issue for future him to deal with, but for now there was a monster to be hunted...in a boy's closet.

Walking down the street, he couldn't help but take in the feel of sameness everything had. Not in the way that all these buildings were built in the same design but more in how rundown everything was. The same crumbling bricks, the same cracking asphalt, the same street signs leaning heavily off to the side, paint barely hanging on leaving only a faded gray that mocked their past vibrancy. And frankly, the people he could see through those cell-like bared windows weren't much better. All of them looked, in a more childish perspective looked mean as hell. More likely to strip a dying man's clothes off his back than help.

This 'sameness' had gotten so bad that the city blurred together in his mind as just one endless bit of tragedy, shattered dreams, hostility and despair. Sure there were places and people that acted like blinding pillars of chaos in this 'filled' canvas called a city.

The air was crisp, his breath coming out in plumes of fog. Each step trying it's damnedest to look casual, to seem as though he belonged. And not like he was only following instructions written to him on a goddamned napkin of all things.

'Turn the corner here,' His mind chanted to him as an upcoming turn came up, it's approach feeling so close and so far away. It wouldn't do well if he needed to turn in a completely opposite direction, only achieving to place a massive target on his head.

But as he turned the corner, a nearly audible sigh of relief escaped his lips. The building in question stood in stark difference to its peers, making him mentally tick up that counter of distinct places. First of all, a single white wooden fence surrounded the entire building with not even a single splinter out of place. Grass that looked a few degrees brighter than the near dead strands that seem to litter the city. On the first floor, a row of windows each with a differing curtain for the world to see combined with a contrasting doormats was enough to know the kind of place this was.

Nothing of this neighborhood even hinted at wealth, in-fact it was the complete opposite. The building just looked completely out of place, it was like someone took a suburban house and just plopped it down smacked dab in the middle of decrepit houses that needed a few tens of thousands of dollars worth of touch-ups.

'Bernies's must be paying quite well..' Albert mused as he pushed open the white picket fence with a degree of care his appliances at home would envy. 'Wonder if they need a dishwasher.'

That, or his client had some side hustle he neglected to mention. Judging from how well put together the place was, maybe something illegal or atleast towing that imaginary line.

Off to the side, a figure wearing faded overalls knelt hunched over what seemed like a small garden. The bright array of flowers in stark contrast to the incredibly strong back presented to the world. Not a guy he would want to disturb, unless he wished to experience what it was like to be bird. Just as he prepared to walk past the man, an old but slightly higher pitched voice called out to him.

"What do you want boy?" The man turned his sunhat covered head, showcases a face full of wrinkles and tanned harshly from the sun above. Those dark brown eyes squinted in obvious suspicion at the unknown waltzing in so casually. "There isn't anything here for you, now git!"

"Good afternoon." Albert easily side stepped, a forced smile on his lips. A social skill like Charm or Intimidate would be perfect for situations like this, a way to get the man to loosen his lips to whatever secret this place held. Hell, even if his APP was a bit higher maybe he wouldn't have to keep dealing with these rather frosty greetings. "I didn't mean to disturb you and I haven't come to cause trouble or anything like that. I was-"

"If you don't mean to cause trouble, then leave." The man cut in, sending one last disparaging glare at him before turning back to the flower garden. His grumbling clear for even the most oblivious of people to hear. "You kids always think you can just barge into anywhere? Back in my day, you would've gotten a beat-down for walking down the wrong street."

Cranky old people could be considered a staple in all forms of media, especially in mysteries and horror. Their archetype was usually assign under the harbinger, a character meant to provide a warning for the viewers of things to come. But no matter the setting, the elderly always acted as a treasure trove full of information, if they weren't insane already. If all it took for him to solve this case was to take some dismissive comments from someone with one foot in the grave, then so be it.

And plus besides, the man was somewhat similar to Darnell. They both seemed to work exclusively with their hands, if his tanned skin and how unflinching he was to the dirt covering his face. Also, if he used his older friend as a template, this man would probably also be equally as stubborn. No amount of persuasion, threat or bribery would shake him.

The teen's eyes flickered to the visible bulge on the gardener's hip, it seemed that not even violence would get him what he wanted in the end.

'Straight forward approach it is, at most he could kick me out and I'll be forced to sneak around like a rat again but at least it'll give me a direction to proceed.'

"I'm actually here to meet someone," Albert began, already seeing some results to his approach as the hand-trowel paused in motion. He could see those shoulders bunch up in readiness, back shrinking as air rapidly filled lungs that were prepared to spew out a roar of an old man fed up with some nosy kid but he pushed on without a beat of hesitation. The best way to stop a train was to make sure it could never pick up speed after all. "Florence."

"He said something about something strange happening with his kid's closet? Apparently, the boy swear it's Big Foot hiding in there."

"There's no such thing as Big Foot." The old man snorted derisively, shoulders loosening just a touch. A good sign. It would mean Albert wouldn't have to deal with some elderly man swinging around a gardening trowel trying it's best to rip through flesh. "If you're here only for the vivid imagination of a child, then you're just as bad as he is. Florence is on the second floor, last door…. You can't miss it. If he's expecting you, then I don't suspect I'll see you for a bit, but if you're lying to me…."

The threat was audible for anyone with ears to hear and it seemed like not even his rather malnourished appearance would do anything to sway the promise of violence this time round.

'You better not have forgotten about our meeting.'

"Thank you," Albert replied with a nod of his head but paused as he prepared to edge towards those metallic stairs. "Do you mind if I come back to ask you some questions as well? Just for anything strange that you can think of that occurred during that time period. I'll make it worth your time."

"I don't want none of your allowance money and we'll see. Prove your not just pulling my leg first and then we'll talk."

With that, the old-timer turned back to his garden and continued his previous work. Completely ignoring the unknown and possible threat that might take this opening to whack him over the back of the head but they would surely be a fool of the most epic proportions. Spot Hidden pointed out the other hand that ever so slightly inched towards that bulge in the man's fade overalls, Psychology spoke of his willingness to put down some rabid dog from just that short conversation and Listen's tendrils of awareness picked up the complete lack of metal digging through soft earth.

It painted a rather harrowing image, a trap for the unaware and hostile.

With a turn of his head, Albert continued on his way. Taking extra care to make sure his shoes skidded loudly against the cement walkway and even made sure to 'stumble' on the first metal stair he came across. Knees slamming hard into the metal caused the entire structure to ring in a dissonant note, slights bits of pain hitting him just as hard.

'The things I do for answers!'

From hiding in rancid garbage to throwing out money like it was running out of a faucet to literally hurting himself, it seemed to have become a trend. But judging how there weren't any bullets flying in his direction and the fact that now he was high up enough, he could actually see the man begin to dig deep into the rich soil, it seemed it was well worth the trouble.

After taking a few steadying breathes, he continued up the incline easing up on the clumsy act for just a moment as he clung to the cold rail. Reaching the top, his eyes flickered to the first door he came across. Freshly polished brown with a few knickknacks to prove that this apartment was actually lived in, with a potted plant and a welcome mat that had the appearance of straw. Ignoring that door, he walked down the hall. Passing a variety of gateways into other people's lives, each of those occupants being their own protagonists with trials and tribulations of their own.

It didn't take long until he finally stopped at the far end of the walkway and just before he knocked on the sloppily painted yellow door that looked as though a child did so with nothing but their fingers and a dream, the investigator resisted the urge to look down below. He could almost feel a pair of eyes bore into him with a level of intensity usually reserved for unwelcome thugs or odd looking strangers. This was it. If Florence had really forgotten about their meeting, then he wouldn't be coming back around to help the man out. Especially not after getting kicked out bodily by some old man who seemed all too happy to do so.

Taking a steadying breathe, Albert tried to donned that mantle. Eyes turning bland, lips falling into a thin line, facial muscles straightening out into a blank mask, shoulder's fixing themselves into an easy posture. His mind open and receipted of any new information that might get thrown at him and gaze turning hungry, like a bottomless hole to take in every minute details. At least that was the goal, without a mirror he wouldn't know exactly how well this worked out.

Maybe he looked constipated and in desperate need of glasses?

But he's been standing here for far too long and in a single breathe, he knocked on the door in the common three pattern. And there he stood for a few heart stopping moments, the cold wind dying down to nothing, leaving him with nothing but his own 'calming' breathes to keep him company. As time went on, even his own heart beats grew much too loud in his head.

"Just a minute!"

The voice was muffled but for him, it was like someone had just shouted that directly into his ear. And unlike how that would normally make him feel, it was like heavy chains were shrugged off his shoulders. It was always rather awkward to be standing outside someones door for any extended amount of time, even if all he had to worry about was nosy neighbors with the police on speed dial...or a firearm toting gardener down below.

After a few seconds, the yellow door opened just a smidgen. A single eye dowsed in shadows looked down at him with both part assessment and suspicion, before the gateway opened fully and Florence was shown. His large frame took up the entire doorway, body like a secondary door to block any overly excited vandals. He wore a simple pairs of jeans and a plain white t-shirt, a few small tattoos could be seen poking out of the shorter sleeves. His hair looked a bit disheveled and little bits of crust could be seen at the corners of his slightly red eyes.

'Was he asleep?' Taking a closer look, that t-shirt did look a bit crumpled and he could even see bits of crinkled skin on the man's arm. 'Yep, definitely asleep.'

"Good afternoon Mr. Florence." He decided to toss a bone to the visibly swaying man, no reason to humiliate his client after all. "I hope I haven't come at an inopportune time?"

"No..No.." Florence yawned loudly, not doing a good job in the slightest to prove his own words true. "I was just- catching up on some sleep, you wouldn't believe how uncomfortable it is to have a five year old kick you repeatedly in the ribs while asleep. Come in, there's some juice packs somewhere….Wait no, I packed the last ones with him this morning….I have some water."

"Thank you, hopefully I'll be able to help."

And with that, Albert stepped into the gaping maw-like portal into another person's life.

(A/N: Hey guys! It's been awhile since I've done one of these! I know it's a bit shorter than the trend I'm going for in volume 2 but I just thought it was good for introductions like this. It's a new environment and new characters, so for this chapter I'm just setting down the groundwork and giving you guys a peak at the repercussions of Batman's first appearance on the world stage. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and I'll see you all next week!)