Volume 2 - Chapter 18: Chores and Invitation

When people thought of what exactly a private eye does, they probably imagine them constantly busy doing something. Whether it be hovering over every available clue, no matter how obscure, with the same intensity even a few hours later or out on the streets extracting even more clues from their existing contacts. All the while, getting into deeper and deeper trouble as they stick their nose where it often didn't belong. Due to a lot of noir style films, the profession was often romanticized to the point of absurdity.

Hell, it had even put rose tented glasses on Albert's eyes when he first picked his profession. What people, him included, didn't account was a very simple fact; clues and information can only be scanned over with a fine toothed comb so many times before there was nothing else to gain, and when that happened there was nothing left to do than to wait. Apparently, the system didn't find it prudent to make that known in the profession's description.

'I can't put all blame at the system's feet.' The teen mused, shuffling from foot to foot as he stood behind a wildly gesticulating man. 'Even in the tabletop version, I always kinda just blew right through any downtime when there was nothing to do but wait. Just did a short recap before getting right back into the action.'

Maybe other Keepers did it differently but if there was one thing his players weren't, it was patient. They were often a wandering band of murderhobos that tried to solve all their problems with a sawed off shotgun and a stubborn refusal to understand that their characters were in fact not superhuman. It didn't matter how many times they practically fed a recently summon extra dimensional creature beyond human imagination with repeated characters without even a second thought. After remaking characters for what felt like a hundred times, one of them finally had the bright idea to just... avoid the creature all together.

'What a genius that one.' He could still remember their dumbfounded expressions as the plan did in fact work, given the creature was blind all along. After that, he had sat them down to talk about why they kept diving head first at the inter-dimensional creature that hadn't moved from it's spot since they started throwing bodies its way. To make a long story short, they had gone mad from all the waiting and wanted something to do while that blood sample was being processed.

How they went from that to fighting a creature that could tear a human limb from limb with relative ease was beyond him.

"Sir, you're holding up the li-"

"I don't give a damn about that!" A man dressed in a heavily wrinkled suit slammed his fists on the counter with a force to send a few papers and pencils spilling off to the ground below. Leaning out to the side to get a good look at the clerk's reaction, Albert saw them to be completely unimpressed by the customer's physical prowess. "Why the hell did you give me a fake phone number?! Do you know how embarrassing it was to call and get a fucking Thai shop of all things?"

"They have some pretty good food though."

"That's not the point!" If before the man's face was flushed with equal parts embarrassment and rage, now the scale was beginning to tip. "Why didn't you just say no when I asked for your number? Did you no think I wouldn't come back or something when you pulled that stunt?!"

"Look man," The clerk sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose in obvious annoyance. "If you're not here to put in an order or to pick up an order, then I'm going to have to ask you to lea-"

"Like hell I am!" Now that scale had been pressed heavily to one side, wrath dripping off the man with the consistently of sap. "Do you know how much I've spent in this fucking dump just to see you?! Let me see a fucking manager!"

"Right away, dude."

The clerk drawled and whirled to walk through that door just behind the counter, but not before rolling her bag laded eyes heavily. Albert took a silent step back from that waiting volcano ready to blow, his gaze already scanning over the man's figure. He was tall and seemed to have some definition around his arms and back. A white-ish button up shirt laid partially untucked around his dark brown dress pants. Just honestly looking like someone loosening their business attire to ready themselves for a fight or something. And from the black straps crisscrossing his back, it was safe to say he was armed.

"Can you believe that bitch?" The teen had to look around the empty to store in hopes that man wasn't talking to him but sadly, this shop really wasn't all too popular. Especially given how early in the day it was. The man's turned face was also apparently an indicator. "I bet it's some sort of goddamn scam they got running, got me for over five hundred bucks and still wasn't even grateful enough to go on at-least one date. Would that had hurt? But no, the little slut had to try to play me."

It was obvious he was just ranting and not really talking to anyone in particular but still, Albert hedged a bit farther away just to be on the safe side. He wasn't some chivalrous knight who would come down on this man with full might of gentlemanly strength, even the knights of old were commonly only a bit better than thugs and bandits. And getting involved with whatever was about to happen didn't sound like a good time.

'Why can't a day go by without something happening?'

He could sense it, the tension concentrating in the air to the point of almost becoming something tangible. Hairs on his arms rising to attention, cold sweat running down his back as he actively fought back against the urge to hold some comforting metal.

"Now look what happen," The man, either too worked up to notice how deathly still everything had become or just oblivious to everything. Maybe a bit of both. "The bitch is about to b-"

Before he could continue, that single door popped open and out came a rather ordinary looking man. He wore a simple black t-shirt with some obscure band's logo that barely hid his paunch and a pair of jeans that looked to have just been thrown on. Skin so pale it was like he hadn't seen sunlight in days and from the red in the man's eyes, that probably wasn't too far off from the truth.

"What seems to be the problem." The new man yawned loudly as though he wasn't facing down an irate armed customer. "But I should tell you, we don't accept returns after the initial thirty days."

"Are you the manager?!"

"Oh yeah," The portly man dug into his jeans before pulling out a small placard and slapping it on the right side of his chest. The word 'manager' etched across the surface. "There ya go, I am the manager."

"Your employee was very rude to me," The customer spewed his venomous lies, a viper's fangs dropping with toxin strong enough to ruin someone's life. It was a petty thing to do and how he could sleep at night was beyond anyone's thoughts. Maybe he thought he was in the right here, whatever the case Albert just stood back and observed. "She repeatedly said very derogatory things to me and lied over even the smallest things. I'm even sure she's pocketed some money from the register in some of my past purchases, the prices were sometimes higher than they should've been but I still paid as to not cause any trouble. I looked at my account this morning and saw an unknown charge so I'm guessing the bi-lady also wrote down my card information for her own use. If you don't want me to leave a negative review and take my business else where, I demand you do something about your problematic employee."

"Okay." Despite saying the word, the manager looked barely able or willing to actually take in the flood of words. "So you want a refund for all your purchases over the last thirty days? Cool, what's the name under these orders?"

"Daniel Wright."

'Daniel' seemed a bit too pleased and even poked out his chest a bit to the substantially shorter man, who in turn only took out a large binder from behind the counter and began to scan through the contents.

"I'm not seeing anything wrong here," The manager mumbled. "I can see the quoted price and the price you actually paid. They aren't off but if you want a refund that's fine. It says here you purchased…. About fifteen hundred cards in total over the course of three weeks. Is all this correct?"

"Yes but-"

"Okay no problem," The manager continued to speak as though Daniel hadn't even spoke and moved to the cash register before opening the draws with an iconic ring. Pulling out a few stacks of twenties and sliding them towards the man. "Here goes exactly one hundred and forty dollars. You can keep the change and the cards. Have a nice day."

"What about that bit-rude employee?" It seemed that not even the fat rolls of cash being shoved in his hands was enough to curve that vindictive edge. "Are you really just going to let her continue to be rude to customers? Wouldn't that turn away more customers than me?"

"I don't know what else you want, you got your money back and can keep the cards."

"I want that bitch fired!" Maybe it was getting his money back that bolstered his confidence to a new level or that spiteful flame roaring up to the sky, whatever the reason it had completely undone his need to be at least somewhat cordial. "She's a goddamn scammer, is this your actual ploy huh?! Get some tramp to flaunt her goods so honest men like me spend their hard earned money in a place like this?!"

"Or else what?"

Despite how casual the question was, an icicle of dread dripped down Albert's spine and if before he was on the edge of his toes then now even his very pores felt like they opened up to better take any minute detail.

"Or else?" Daniel chuckled, oozing both confidence and malice in equal measures. That slight movement that rippled across his back spoke of a dark promise, iron would drawn that day. "I'll show you why no one fucks with me and gets aw-"

All Albert heard was the door singling open with a boom before he dove, not towards the man but behind a nearby shelf. Sure it made things harder to observe but judging from how quickly the customer ceased spewing his venom, it was probably a good decision.

"Take your money and leave." The manager's voice could heard, sleepiness still evident in his tone despite the deathly stillness that flooded the space. "Don't come back, your business is no good here."

"You'll regret!" But nonetheless, the sound of his heavy stomps could be heard and only when that familiar bell rung over the door was one more threat sent out. "I'll be sure to tell everyone I know the type of treatment they'll get if they come here, you'll be out on the streets by the end of the year. Maybe I'll see you in a cardboard box and we'll see if you can still pretend to be better than me!"

And with that, the entrance door slammed shut with a rattle. Only a tired sigh broke the silence, "If he comes back, I give you permission to shoot him. Just aim for the brows. Just say he broke in or something."

"Oh and you can come out now, we won't shoot unless you give a reason to."

Eyeing the path to the door, the teen came to a few conclusions. Sure getting close to the entrance without ever leaving cover would be possible but only up until he passed the shelf filled with rather generic looking family photos but after that? There was a good three feet worth of wide open space and sadly, he didn't possess the supernatural speed required to dodge bullets rocketing his way. Hell, with two of possible enemies present trying to wait them out wouldn't accomplish much. One could keep him pinned while the other could just waltz his ways with no fear of reprisals.

"I'm just for some business cards."

There was only one thing Albert could do and slowly standing out from behind a shelf with palms facing them, he capitulated to their demands. But color him surprised when instead of staring into a metallic maw, he only watched at the clerk from before was already walking back behind those employee doors. Not before he caught a good look at the weapon that scared off that aggressive customer and even from that brief glance Appraise was already singing it's praises. It was a rather unique shotgun, it's polished wood etched in markings he couldn't quite catch from so far away and even the steel woods embossed on the side was hidden away behind her should. But that wasn't what seem to both confuse and draw the skill's attention, no it was the triplets metallic barrels.

Normally, double barrel shotguns were enough to punch fist sized holes in an over two-hundred pound deer. Just trying to fathom the amount of damage such a weapon could inflict honestly almost him feel like just walking away from all this mess and go to a different shop. No business card is worth this much anxiety.

Behind the counter, like the manager could read his thought, he beckoned him over after the door clicked close, "Let's get this over with, do you have a design ready or do you want to browse through our wide expanse of outlines?"

"Yeah it's on my phone, do you guys have an email or something I can send it to?"

It would've been a wasted trip to not at least hear the kinda deals this shop had to offer but deciding to stay even a second longer was already out of the cards for him.

"We can do that later," The man waved his hand dismissively. "Just show me the picture and I can give you pretty good quota."

Rummaging through his pockets, Albert barely held back the breathe of relief that threatened to expel out of him as his fingers grazed upon a solid plastic cube. Flipping to the photo in question, he waited patiently as the manager's eyes flickered.

"It's a pretty good photo," It was begrudging but still a compliment nonetheless," I can tell it's of a painting but judging how well it's captures, you can tell that photographer of yours to come meet me. I got some work for them."

"I'll be sure to tell them." It wasn't technically a lie, he would just be telling himself that in the mirror. Nothing wrong there, but still it was probably better to quickly move along. "But what do you think? How much is this going to run me?"

"Hmmm…" The manager rubbed his chin, eyeing the photo a few times before ultiamtely speaking once more. "If you want it in a business card set up, whether or not you want it colored would be the deciding factor. Black and white would only cost three-fourths of the colored variant. How many do you want?"

"I'd say a hundred is a good start."

"Usually the more a customer buys, the more they save. We have a bundle deal at twenty for five dollars, sixty for ten etc. I'll say if you don't want any color, one-hundred and twenty cards for forty. But with color it'll be an additional thirteen so fifty-four rounded up….Or if you wish to buy each individual card, it'll cost either seventy-five cents for monochrome or a dollar colored per."

"I'll take the one-hundred and twenty card bundle with color. When exactly can I pick them up?"

"Give us a few days, three at most. You can pay half now as a deposit and pay the rest on pick up. Please fill out this form with all your business's information and I'll put your order in. And make sure you email us that photo."

****

If there was one thing that had always tired Albert out the most, it was shopping. He remembered dragging his feet as a kid as his mother dragged him along on one of her long trips that seem to last forever to his young mind. And growing up hadn't help that much, in fact with the advent of the internet booming into existence it had only further exasperated the problem. Then he could achieve the same results of shopping without ever leaving the comfort of his own home, well other than for work...and to collect the packages themselves.

And it seemed that disdain for shopping in person hadn't faded in the slightest even after coming to this weird mismatched mess of comic, cartoon and light novel version of the DCverse. That's how he found himself walking home after that rather harrowing experience. Back hunched, eyes turned to the ground and near stumbling on his feet as he tried to resist the urge to find some nearby cardboard box to sleep away that sticky, sap-like, exhaustion.

All he wanted to do was shuffle his way back home and collapse into his lumpy mattress to sleep away the world for a few hours. Whether it was because he was essential one with the nearby crowd who also that similar looks of exhaustion, or maybe Gotham decided to throw him a bone after all, but not once did he need to slap away questing fingers trying their best to search for his wallet or really anything of value.

'It's their lost,' He bit back a body shaking yawn, 'I would've let them steal what they wanted.'

But it seemed the pickpockets of this grungy city knew better than to target a shuffling mob that took heavy inspiration from classic zombie movies. Maybe that exhaustion made some of them snappy and more prone to inflict great physical harm when someone tried to get between their place of rest.

Turning the corner, it was like a switch had been flipped. From being surrounded on all sides by bodies, he know found himself completely alone. He could feel a few half-heatedly curious looks digging into his back but they too were ignored as his feet carried him down the desolate street. Passing by a line of memorial with an unsteady gate, small candles long since extinguished. Flowers of differing colors placed at the doorstep of every residential building he passed by and there were even some photos propped up against the crackled bricked exteriors.

Whether these memorials were put up by those who lost family members during The Neighborhood Massacre or just strangers shaking off the apathy this city seem to force on people, it had put a more somber air in the already abandoned block. Honestly, he didn't like looking at the smiling photos. They often brought up rather...unpleasant memories.

Albert frozen in place just as he passed readied himself to turn another corner to finally get back home, as there standing with their arms was a very familiar figure. They were tall, and their high heels made them even more so. Wearing a rather tight button up white shirt along with a pitch black business skirt that looked painted on, showing off the persons well defined muscles. A single long dark brown, almost black braid hung from one side. And their skin, the complexion of dark chocolate, glistened under the now setting sun.

But most importantly, that same holstered gun much too large for most people to use laid flushed against their shirt.

"...Willow?"

"Nice to see you alive, Lovecraft." Willow, his one time bodyguard, smiled brightly at him. Rows of pearly white teeth glinting under the light and he was sure if his social batteries weren't completely drained maybe he would feel something positive for this unexpected visitor. But alas, she was an obstacle between him and good-night's rest.

"How can I help you?" After paying for his place, funds had been much too limited to waste on calling Madame Clements or her girl's. Despite how critical they had been in multiple ventures, their help sadly didn't come for free. A luxury he was unable to afford. "I'm guessing this isn't a social call?"

"Got it in one." She threw out a series of finger guns his way, before motioning to the small pack pressed up tight to her side. Opposing the large bit of iron on her other flank. "May I?"

Seeing his bobbing nod, the woman slowly edged her long fingers to the fanny pack before unzipping it and pulling out a simple vanilla envelope. She held it between two digits out to him, as if expecting the distance between to shrink in that instance. But there was no way in hell Albert was going to just accept some unknown letter without a few questions first.

"What is it? And who sent it?"

He knew the Madame didn't just offer carnal pleasure but was also amenable to other pursuits, delivering a letter for a third party wouldn't be too out of the norm. And the amount of people would bother going through all this trouble were few and far between. Any of his friends would've either called or appear on his doorstep without a second guess...okay maybe that was just Harley.

"It's nothing bad." Willow shrugged, still holding the envelope aloft. Acting like a constant source of curiosity that niggled at the back of his head, the draw only tempered by the fog of sleepiness trying it's best to slowly drag him off to a hopefully dreamless slumber. "It's a dinner invitation from the big lady herself, Madame Clements."

His mind flashed back to that black haired woman with a mouth foul enough to make even a few sailors take a second look. The memory was fuzzy, like it had happened a lifetime ago.

"Why would she do something like that?"

"You'll have to find yourself." Willow grinned, waggling the ever increasingly tempting envelope his way. "She said everything you would want to know is all here."

"Leave it on the stairs and I'll get it."

She was a beautiful woman but like all such beings in this world, she had thorns. And her particular thorn was something whose kickback alone would smash his nose in. Being cautious was for the best.

"Have it your way." The lady of the night placed the envelope on a nearby stair with a level of gentleness and respect that belied her rather casual attitude thus far. After doing so, she took a few steady steps back. A futile action, he knew, having saw how quickly she whipped out that hunk of iron that night it didn't matter if her palms were held out for him to see. A blink was it would take. And he would staring down an open maw filled with inky darkness.

Taking a few tentative steps, he eyed her as he swiped the letter and stuffed it into his pocket.

"If I were to accept," It would suck to go to some meeting when he was feeling this off, who knew what kind of deals he would agree to if he were to go in this state. "When and where do I need to go?"

"It's in the letter," She tapered off and looked pensive for a moment before shrugging a single shoulder. "But I was instructed to wait here tomorrow at around eight at night and to only wait ten minutes before leaving."

"Thanks."

It was thrown bone, free information wouldn't be turned down.

"Well it was nice seeing you again Lovecraft," Beginning to walk in a wide birth of him, like he was some sort of skittish animal, she continued after a beat. "Hopefully I see you tomorrow night."

Albert didn't respond as the woman slowly walked away, keeping her within his sights the entire way until he saw her go down the deserted street before funneling out to the deluge of people stumbling home. After making extra sure she was actually gone, he quickly walked a few steps and pressed himself up against the corner, spotting his home down the street.

Without waiting even a moment more than needed, he tore open the letter with fumbling fingers.

'Dear Lovecraft (Still think it's a dumb name),' Yep that was definitely Madame Clements alright. The woman hadn't hesitate to negatively comment on his pseudonym he used on their very first meeting, and this didn't seem to have changed in the slightest. 'I heard you're Gotham's newest Psychometrist, I have a proposal for you. Meet me tomorrow tonight at nine o'clock, Willow will be around your place at eight to pick you up. If I don't see you, do not call upon mine or my girls services again.'

That was it. Even after flipping the paper multiple times, that was all that was written. It was straight and to the point. No colorful words, or eloquent speech designed to confuse and enthrall him. Not even a threat on his life. Sure there was that last bit, but it was kinda understandable. If he was truly unwilling to at least listen to what she had to offer, then it made sense why she would cut off their relationship so cleanly.

Despite how short the letter was, it honestly should've just been sent as a text or even a call, there was one very important thing to unpack. Madame Clements was at least connected in some way to the supernatural world enough to find out his Spark. And given how Marceline had acted when she saw the women, he suspected it wasn't some shallow association.

'She might even be an Ignited.' Even that burly man who was a body guard at the infamous Iceberg Lounge was on his best behavior when the Madame was around. 'Given his comment about her appearing the same since he was young, I would say it's more than likely that might be the case.'

Desmond had looked to be in his late twenties, while the Madame only appeared to be….maybe thirty? It was an insidious but simple trap. Maybe they knew he would want to get to the bottom of things but with such a large mystery set up before him, it would go against his better nature to not investigate further. A Madame, seemingly resistant to the passage of time? It was something classic.

Plus besides, who knew when else he would require their services in the future? Anything could happen.