(Edited with Grammarly 3/19/2026)
"…"
Sitting hunched over a desk, a lone student was besieged from all sides by large and imposing foes. Books thick enough to provide support when changing tires, neatly written notes acted as their armor, and a pencil as a weapon. Scribbling away at the massive stacks of work before them, slowly but surely beating back the unyielding tide. A lone beam of harsh yellow light was beating down from the side, an old lamp that was surely not going to make it through the year. Alas, as much as they probably wanted to stay seated there until all this work was done, the mind was willing, but the body was weak.
Retreating away from the stack, the woman let out a heavy breath. Taking off those wire-framed glasses to press the palms of her hands into her emerald eyes, rubbing them with a groan. Snatching up the thoroughly empty bottle beside her, she popped the cap to look down into the metallic interior. A useless action, she knew. It was a way to waste time, to further convince herself to throw in the towel and just foist all this work onto her future.
Pushing herself to her rather impressive height, she swiftly made her way out of the torture chambers. Just taking in that moment, that lone moment of movement, of using her body to do something besides lie around all day, was like putting balm on irritated skin. Moving past the long line of photos, of her younger self with that same red hair done up in a variety of different styles. From a short bob to a high ponytail to even pigtails, something she couldn't look at too closely without cringing away.
But if there was one constant in all these photos, besides her, it had to be a perpetually gruff and exhausted-looking man with a finely trimmed and well-taken care of mustache. Those blue eyes, with heavy bags under them, still looked warmly out into the world. Her mind tried not to notice the bits of gray that seemed to progressively stack as the photos moved from age to age.
She just wanted some water, not be hit with the pointed reminder of her dad's mortality. Shaking her head vehemently, the redhead lumbered down the hall casually. Taking some extra time to look at the occasional piece of furniture she's seen plenty of times before, eyeing a few cracks and chipped paint spots that she already knew were there, and just honestly did whatever it took to prolong her trip.
Procrastination, an old enemy of hers. In fact, it was this same foe that resulted in her having to do an entire week's worth of assignments in a single night just to avoid having her pristine grades be smudged. But it wasn't as if she didn't have a good reason to put off work for this long. Combine the near-nightly patrols, escort missions, a few hours spent a day keeping tabs on a few rogue elements, and routinely fighting off the occasional purple-suited vigilante that just did not know when to throw in the towel.
Huntress was skilled, incredibly so. In martial arts, parkour, stealth, and a pretty mean shot with that crossbow of hers. But none of that mattered on that night, the three of them confronted her...who was she kidding? It was just her and Dick just sitting back as Batman proceeded to expertly handle the vigilante with that cold efficiency that made him seem more like an android than a person.
They'd watched as Bertinelli's legs were swept out from underneath her time and time again, losing track around the two dozen mark, but it seemed like those skills weren't her only strengths. No matter how many times he sent her sprawling, she just kept on getting right back up. Barely giving herself enough time to center herself before jumping back into the fight, punching and kicking.
Only after she was covered in bruises, huffing and puffing, lying in a puddle of her own sweat, did the black-haired woman finally relent. Honestly, Barbara and Dick thought that this would be the end of things. As that wasn't just a physical beating, everything Huntress had tried, every trick in the book, had been analyzed and countered with ease; such a thing was a strike against her very soul. Maybe it was supposed to shake her up, to have her take a second look at the years of training and wonder if they were worth it if she only amounted to this much.
And after a week, the pair had honestly already considered that situation finished. No more purple-suited vigilantes, no more hyper vigilance on their target. They'd let their guard down, grew complacent as the nights blurred together into a barely comprehensible blur. A flying bolt, darting out of the darkness inside her blind spot, had nearly caused all the work her dad had been doing to be considered null.
She'd barely been able to sling out a batarang to knock the trajectory from its initial target, causing the man in question to let out a squeal of surprise as the bolt embedded itself a solid inch or two into the nearby brickwork. And causing his nearby security guards to nearly dog-pile the man as they used their own bodies to act as a shield, a cluster of bodies moving as one to a less exposed spot.
To make things worse, the shooter, most probably Huntress, had slipped away in the chaos. Yeah, that night wasn't a fun one.
'It's not like I meant to let her escape…'
Even now, the clipped dressing down she received from her mentor still made her chest flush hot with a mix of embarrassment and genuine anger. She'd been alone, exhausted, and had seen enough of witnessing the same man party hard as if he didn't have a pending court case hemming him in on all sides. It was a single slip-up...but it had still almost cost her dad everything.
Letting out a sigh, she halted her steps. Standing before a sink and turning the nozzle, waiting a few moments to allow the slightly brown water to turn clear before beginning to fill her bottle. Just then, she heard the rather distinct sound of keys sliding into place before the front creaked open on un-oiled hinges. She had resisted the urge to dash to the side, to hop onto the counter, and squeeze herself between the cabinet and the ceiling. Oh lord, how she fought. Years of training being forced down by an iron will and her own certainty.
She was in no danger here; no thugs were coming to snatch the commissioner's daughter, nor was this a home invader.
That fact was further proven as the sound of low groaning could be heard, followed by the scuffing of heavy and worn shoes being kicked off to the side. Keys jingling as they fell into that same bowl she could almost see in her mind's eye.
Next, the person paused. Probably noticing the faucet running.
"Babs?"
"Hey, Dad!" She knew that cautious tone anywhere; he had a long enough day. No reason to further add to his troubles. Slow and lumbering shuffling steps came her way, exhaustion clear from how they dragged lightly against the uneven tiled flooring. "You hungry? I made you something, just let me pop it in the microwave real quick."
"Don't bother." Turning to face the giant of a man, she looked at her bedraggled dad. His muscled frame was thinner and more hunched, those heavily etched lines in his face becoming far more pronounced. Even that mustache he was so proud of had a distinctly mangy appearance to it. Losing strands sticking out and feeding back into the uneven scruff along his jaw. Reaching into the fridge, he pulled out a pretty hefty bowl wrapped tightly in aluminum. And pulling out a seat, he lowered himself down with a steady breath of relief, leaving him as he took that small moment to truly relax. Those tensed shoulders of his loosened a hair before he began to dig into the meal. A simple dish of brown rice, steamed broccoli, canned greens, and three thick slices of baked salmon. "Thank you...but why are you up so late? I hope you weren't waiting up for me."
"Homework." It wasn't even a lie this time, as she couldn't even remember a time when she didn't wait up long into the night for her dad to return home. Even when he made sure to text and call, she still wouldn't believe he was safe and sound until he came through those doors himself. "And it's not that late, it's only eleven. Here."
"Thanks." He took the proffered glass, taking a short sip mechanically before setting it down. Smiling, a droopy one that didn't quite have the energy to reach his blue eyes, he looked up at her. "Do..do you need any help? It might've been some years since I've been to school, but I think I can muster through some problems if you need."
"Thanks, but no thanks." She hadn't needed help with her school work since she was a child, and there was no way she was going to add more to his plate when he looked right about ready to tip over. "It's mostly volume, nothing too hard. Just procrastinated too much...but enough about that, how is everything going?"
"Terrible." He grunted, falling back onto the plate with great gusto. "I've been up to my eyes in work, from unsealing previously closed cases, to dealing with the occasional gangster trying to reestablish connections with the police, and finally working to get rid of the corruption. Do you know how many people I've had fire, Babs? How many officers I had no choice but to kick to the curb because they couldn't say no to someone they owed money to? Back then, I always used to scoff or say something unhelpful whenever I saw those same officers take bribes to look the other way, but now? I can kind of understand. It's tough, this economy is awful, and finding a new job here in Gotham with such a massive stain would make it so that I'm responsible for knocking a family down a whole tax bracket. And if they decide to throw in the towel and leave this city, which police department would hire a cop from here? They see the entirety of GCPD as a disgrace, especially after the prison break."
"Would you turn down the promotion if you knew all this already?" She already knew the answer, and so did he, but it was just simply better to let it be out in the open. A single bushy brow raised in her direction, a flicker of amusement passing across those pale blue orbs.
"Not a damn chance." That mustache quivered, a smile playing across his lips. "The department might be held together by dental floss and duct tape, but I wouldn't trust it in someone else's hands right now. Maybe after I spend some time cleaning it up some, but not now….And given what's been happening, it seems like I have a whole lot to work on….I still can't believe they somehow got to Coleman."
Barbara could only nod solemnly. Derek Coleman had been the head of what used to be known as The Gray Gardens, and it had barely been a full twenty-four hours after he was arrested when the man was found dead in his cell. Foaming at the mouth and as cold as ice. No signs of injuries, no struggle, not even any signs of anything beyond the expected in his blood. Alcohol and drugs, and the autopsy wasn't much better. In the end, the cause of his oh-so-convenient end was chalked up to the concoction of illicit substances he'd consumed within the last forty-eight hours.
"And now one of the only leads we had to whoever was behind is just gone," Gordon went on, spoon not ceasing as he shoveled a near steady pile into his mouth. "Richard and Howard are like ghosts, but we sent a BOLO for them weeks ago, and haven't heard anything."
"Oh?" She turned her back to the man, turning on the faucet to prepare to finish up the few remaining dishes she'd been too lazy to do earlier. No matter how well she thought her poker face was, before her dad, it would be like she was blurting out the fact that she was hiding something. Knowledge that would surely help him out immensely. That neither Howard nor Richard existed, that they were just masks a freelance private investigator used. That the person they were looking for was a single teen who probably just barely weighed over a hundred pounds.
She could just tell everything, point the finger one way, and have the police pay him a personal visit within the hour….but then what? How could she explain how she knew? Where did her information come from? It only led to one conclusion: the complete exposure of not just her own secrets but of Dick's and Bruce's.
"Yeah…" Gordon said slowly, almost casually, but she could distinctly feel a questioning glance being sent her way. "It's not really surprising, Gotham is massive and overpopulated. It'll be a miracle if we can find either of them. We know Hyde hired someone, a lot of people actually but he won't talk, no matter how much we tell him they aren't in any sort of trouble. But seriously, no matter how minuscule the chances are, just get the message out to your friends to keep an eye out for either one of them."
Barbara only nodded, not trusting her voice not to give away the game. Why Albert chose to walk down this path was puzzling beyond belief. Combining his camera work and skill in special effects, he could've become a very well-renowned movie director. He could've written and even still pursued his apparent love of mysteries and horror to craft intricate tales and put them on the big screen for all to see.
So with that, why does he decide to risk himself like this? Waving guns around, interrogating criminals, and running through the streets like he's a bulletproof vigilante?
Okay, maybe she did understand why. Intimately so, like looking into a mirror.
'Just because I understand you doesn't mean you aren't still an asshole.'
With that newly rekindled fire in her belly, she dunked her hands into the sink-full of hot, soapy water and began to battle with the few dishes that were unlucky enough to face her wrath.
***
"Hey, Al?"
A high-pitched voice cooed like she was speaking to a rabid animal ready to claw or flee at a moment's notice. With it, a beam of fresh sunlight pierced through the dower room. The massive desk now lay pushed against the far wall. Filing cabinets forced out of the way. Papers lying in messy stacks, chaotically strewn about in an order only known to the lone occupant.
In the center of that room, sat hunched in a stiff-backed chair, brown hair pooling to his shoulders with a messy and greasy looking appearance. Visible knots and stiff locks, making it appear as if it was on its way to go from hair to actual fur. As if trying to put a comb through that mess would most likely end with the comb missing a few teeth.
"Hey."
Albert knew he probably wasn't looking the best right now, but unconventional things like showering and basic grooming could wait. He was on the precipice, could feel it right in his bones. And doing anything besides this would surely knock him out of this zen-like state he'd achieved.
"Been a while…." The blonde hesitantly stepped into the room, her face twisting up with a mix of disgust and concern as she surveyed the absolute mess around them. Holding her nose, exaggeratedly, he might add, she continued with that nasal edge to her voice. "Whatcha been up to lately, buddy?"
"I found a lead." He remained sitting, gaze not leaving the massive corkboard before him. Its size taking up an entire wall, with not even an inch of space wasted. "Now I just gotta connect it all."
"Ah," She didn't seem all too convinced, taking a step closer until they were side by side and she too could get a look at his master piece. Photos, news clippings, crudely drawn pictures, and index cards, all of which were pinned to the board with these multicolored push pins and, of course, a variety of differing colored string connecting them all, this complex web. "I...I can see you put a lot of work into this. Why don't you run it by me?"
Of course, she would want to bask in his genius.
"Red means a hostile relationship, black means neutral, green is positive."
"Okay...then what does purple mean?"
"Connected through a third party."
"And…orange?"
"Sexual relations."
"Right…." She nodded, finally seeing his vision for what it was. A true feat of sleuthing and engineering. "But...wouldn't that just fall under green?"
"I thought so too, but who's on good terms with all their past partners?"
"Okay, fair." The blonde took a step away, getting right up close to his masterpiece. Scanning over his work with a fine-tooth comb, she froze in place. "Say, Al?"
"Yeah."
"You're looking for that Hyde girl, right?" Seeing him nod, she continued. "Then why is Lex Luthor up here?... Same with Bruce Wayne? Actually….why are there five different billionaires here?"
"If you see here," He pushed himself to his feet, using the chair for purchase as he began to point wildly at the connections that only he seemed to see. All of this was obvious to anyone paying attention. "The car those kidnappers were using was the same model as an associate in a branch of LexCorp in Florida, same year, color, and everything. His was just better taken care of. And, if you see here, another prominent associate was let go around the same time The Gray Gardens were stomped out of existence. Just before Wayne Corp announced a brand new allergy medication, and this was also around the time the CEO Bruce Wayne took a month-long hiatus from public events! Along with that, Queen Industries also released its study on improved wind turbines that could increase production by around fifteen percent, only to face a lot of pushback from energy companies around the country. I think it's going to be lobbied into the ground by year's end. But, but what one of the primary people pushing so fervently against this discovery has a daughter with similar features to Jacqueline!"
"So," Harley craned her head back to gaze at him, probably impressed that he'd been able to see such a wide spanning view. "What does that mean exactly?"
"It means, because LexCorp is a prominent investor in the energy field, this discovery challenged their bottom line. So worked with some rando, through said associate, to oppose Queen Industries, to help drag down its momentum. And as you know, Wayne Corp is a very vocal competitor of LexCorp and worked with Queen Industries to send a message! Queen Industries probably arranged for someone with similar features to his daughter to be kidnapped and handed Jacqueline over to Wayne Corp to experiment a new line of allergy medication on her! But when the Gray Gardens got dismantled, it prompted Bruce Wayne's disappearance and LexCorp's firing of their other associate!
"…" Speechless, that was good. Now, with him gathering all the facts together as they were, the image had to be clearer than ever! It had taken him weeks to form this web, to uncover some of the powerhouses giving out blows. Keeping track of stock numbers and getting in on the monthly reports, the three giants just seem to love putting out for the world to see. "You think Bruce Wayne had a hand in this?"
"Not Bruce Wayne. Someone in Wayne Corp. waited until he was out of the picture to act."
"…." She was quiet for a moment before deflating like a balloon. "Al, do you remember the last time you saw me? Or came to visit or even go outside?"
"I touch grass very frequently." He was never going to fall for such a childish insult; he honestly thought she was better than this. "I would say...two-three weeks ago?"
"It's been over a month." Her words struck him with the full force of a meteor from orbit, shattering that fog clouding his mind. "Well, to be more specific, thirty-six days."
No. No, no-nonono. That couldn't be right. Albert could feel the world whirl around him as he tried to pierce through the thinning curtain. Three weeks should've passed, tops.
'Status!'
[Albert Nelson
HP: 20/20
MP: 9/9
SAN: 27/47
LCK: 45/45
IP: 6
Skills:
- Appraise: 28%
- Art/Craft (Photography): 55%
- Acting: 10%
- Disguise: 28%
- Dodge: 23%
- Fire Arms (Handgun): 62%
- Library Use: 60%
- Listen: 36%
- Navigate: 24%
- Occult: 35%
- Persuade: 6%
- Psychology: 54%
- Spot Hidden: 60%
- Stealth: 45%
- Psychometry: 24%
Talents:
- Resourceful
- Lucky
- Psychic Power
Cthulhu Mythos: 0%]
Other than his skills shooting up like crazy, which wasn't all that surprising given how much he'd been using them, there was a single point of concern. So much so that he had to get a second look just to make sure his mind was playing with him.
[SAN: 27/45]
Nope. Not insane, at least not yet. Two more points and he would probably be even lower than it was during the Neighborhood Massacre. And he couldn't even pretend as if he hadn't noticed it start taking that dip. It had only been a point one day, two a few days later, but it had happened in such low amounts that he hadn't really thought much of it. He couldn't remember exactly when, but eventually, a fog had clouded his mind to the point where only now did he truly know how dire his situation was.
'Who would've thought inside a dark room for weeks obsessing over something was bad for my mental health?'
It was a dry thought, but he couldn't really feel much humor or joviality just then. He couldn't afford to lose his rocker in this city; Arkham was the absolute last place he wanted to be. Blackgate would be a far more appealing location.
"Oh my god, Sundae!"
Mind clearing, a spike of something cold and forbidding filled him as he hopped to his feet. Or at least tried to, as the room began to tilt on its side. Legs like jelly, and only a sudden but firm hand gripping onto his forearm kept him from eating the wooden planks below.
"Whoa there!" Harley steadied him, forcing them to lock gazes as she smiled reassuringly. "Calm down! She's fine! Pissed but fed and fine! See, look!"
As though to answer her, a low meowing could be heard before a black shadow poked a little head into the room before darting away with a hiss and a cry. But in that blur of movement, she didn't appear to be any worse for wear.
"She's right, you know!" The blonde nodded sagely, almost bodily dragging him out of the room. "You smell awful! How about this, you take a shower...A long one, get behind those ears, young man. Wash that rat's nest and brush your teeth, please. No, not please, you will do that! You nearly knocked me out just then! And while you're doing that, I'm gonna get rid of some of this stuff here. And open up a goddamn window."
"Thanks, Harley." He felt a bit ashamed right about now, so much so that even fighting against her grip had become a moot point. He'd probably gone completely noseblind to whatever had become of his office, but if it was bad enough for both her and the feline at their feet to be making nearly the same expression, then it had to be something awful. "And uh-sorry, to both of you. I owe you one."
"Bah!" She slapped his back, hard enough for his ribs to rattle together like he was an instrument. "Favors, smavors! What are friends for? If you want to repay me, you can buy me and Red dinner! And don't think I'm gonna pull my punches! There's this buffet that just opened up, and we're betting to see how quickly it takes for us to get banned!"
Leading him to the bathroom, she quickly pushed him and closed it.
"And don't you dare pull that old turn the shower on without actually getting inside! I want to smell nothing but that cheap soap you got!"
With that, her stomping footsteps, followed by the sound of his office window being forced open, echoed through his ears. Slumping against the door, his eyes closed as a groan threatened to escape his throat. He was stalling, he knew. Procrastination had been one of his many flaws, especially when he was put face-to-face with the results of it.
'Just a peek.'
Before he could psyche himself out of it, he quickly took a look at himself in the mirror. Not even trying to hold the groan, he could only helplessly look down at himself. His skin, usually always a few shades paler than normal, now looked nearly translucent. With blue veins visible even from a relatively far distance. Lips cracked and crumbling, eyes sunken in, and cheekbones far too pronounced to be healthy. With long brown hair tangled up in all manners of knots and sticking together in thick clumps due to the accumulated grease.
If he thought getting rid of his off-white shirt would bring about good news, then he was sorely mistaken.
'Aw man…'
Before him stood a walking skeleton. Skinnier than usual, having lost around ten to fifteen pounds, he already couldn't afford to lose. Enough that now he could visibly see his own ribs without sucking in his nonexistent gut. And combine that with his wobbly elbows and knees, he probably could be placed on a kite and experience flight on a particularly windy day.
All in all, he looked like a ghoul that had just gotten done digging himself out of his own grave.
'All that progress.' He poked at a rib sadly, feeling the direct results of his own actions. 'Just gone like that. I'm such a goddamn failure. Maybe...maybe there was a reason why she mentioned a buffet after all.'
Just as he prepared to sink deeper into that comforting embrace of depressing and self-deprecating thoughts, sudden banging on the wall nearly caused him to leap high into the air.
"I don't hear any water running!"