(Edited with Grammarly on 9/9/2026)
Albert took in a steadying breath, glancing at the familiar apartment door with some trepidation. Shifting from foot to foot, he felt the new carpet squeak and creak under his weight. His eyes roamed over the fresh wallpaper that instantly made the hallways nearly unrecognizable when he thought back to the old chipped paint that had once been a staple here.
But most importantly, that ancient musky smell had almost entirely disappeared. No longer did it feel like he needed to clamp his nose shut while stomping up those innumerable stairs, or watch where he stepped in fear of testing to see if that stain on the ground was new or older than he was.
'Just do it!'
He was being stupid, he knew. There was no reason to be this unsure. It was just a door. Just a knock, just a conversation, and maybe he could have a problem solved. All he needed to do was just knock on that door.
Raising his fist, he quickly knocked before his mind could come up with another excuse to just turn back around right then.
The knocks echoed out through the hall; even the expected rattle didn't come. Instead, it sounded far more solid, like it wasn't going to come off its hinges with just his mediocre STR.
Taking a step back, he silently counted the seconds. His gaze dropped to the brightly colored welcome mat, using that as something to distract his racing thoughts.
It was a small rectangle, made of some form of coarse fabric, but had an obviously hand-stitched design of a cartoonish dragon opening its mouth wide to swallow up a visibly crying goblin.
A little bit of a comical and grossly exaggerated warning.
He could almost hear the blonde's voice; its singsong tone hiding an edge of menace.
'Here be the SHE-Dragon!'
'Wake her if you dare!'
The door popped open in response, shaking him from his silent musing. Taking in one more breath, the heavy, earthy scent hit first as he pushed open the door. Glancing around the dimly lit room, he took note of the studio style the apartment seemed to be going for. With a clear view of the kitchen and the 'modest' pile of soaking dishes. A beat-up fridge almost completely covered in magnets and photos. Pictures of a blonde smiling widely, with her arms wrapped tightly around the neck of a green-skinned woman who looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there, and another woman with short, cropped brown hair who just seemed to ooze class. The photos kept changing; sometimes it was just the blonde grinning victoriously over some poor schmuck covered in bruises and a swollen face, or maybe even a few with her posing beside some destroyed property. But the one at the center of it all was a carefully framed, heart-shaped photo.
It was of the blonde surrounded on all sides by a trio of massive hyenas, each of whom seemed to be grinning just as large as she was. Massive tongue hanging, drool dripping, and everything. It should've been a terrifying photo, should've enacted some form of concern for the simple fact of a human being almost engulfed by wild animals. Creatures that actively tussled with some of the largest predators of the savanna. But even through the photo, the absolute trust and love in those large blue eyes was plain... no, it almost screamed out through it. Like she could put her whole head into the mouth of one of them and come out with not even a single nick to show for it.
Harley's pride and joy. Her babies.
Albert slowly turned away from the photo in question, feeling this weird sensation like he was peeping or eavesdropping.
What met his vision next was the back of a run-down couch, covered in all manner of patches that distinctly reminded him of his own. Probably Harley's work then. Sitting in front of one of those 'classic' thick and boxy televisions, a documentary seemed to be running. The scene followed a small rodent as it dashed from bush to bush as it sought food, completely unaware of the massive spotted cat hiding in wait in the nearby shrubbery. Its large yellow eyes locked onto the tasty morsel, just ready to present itself on a silver platter for the predator.
The documentary had obviously reached its climax, all this build-up waiting to see the results of Mother Nature. It didn't matter if the viewers had developed an attachment to the rodent; it didn't matter if they've been following its journey all this time. Now was the moment to see if it had the skills to survive or just wind up as something else's lunch. Or maybe they were following the leopard? He didn't know, but he did know trying to interrupt now would probably pop the tension like a bubble, ruining whatever effect they were going for.
Instead, he stepped closer to the couch. Resting his hand on the back and settling himself to see the end.
He'd almost missed it. Would've missed it if it had happened right in front of him. In one blink, the furry rodent was dashing to and fro before finally snatching up an errant berry. Putting it in its mouth, it barely had time to turn before a blur snatched it up faster than it could register. An all-too-cruel, enhanced squeak filled the air as the audience witnessed the end, before it all fell silent.
The scene replayed back, slowing down to a snail's pace. Allowing everyone to see the massive paw slammed down on its hind legs, to cut off its escape, and the other paw coming sweeping down to hem it in. A maw filled with needle-like fangs yawned open, snapping forward and over the rodent's windpipe. Wide slit eyes seemed to narrow in delight as it quickly wrenched its head back, dragging its squealing prey into the darkness of night.
"Hey Pamela," Albert spoke up, feeling all that built-up tension slowly ebb away from him. For these types of documentaries, it was always a coin flip to see if they survived or not. Or maybe this feline was the subject? "I hope I'm not bothering you?"
"…" The sound of movement came from just out of sight, blankets moving. Soon enough, something akin to a sigh could be heard until a green arm propped itself up with a heavily duct-taped remote in hand. And just like that, the volume dropped down to zero. Suddenly, the apartment fell into an almost suffocating silence that was only broken up by the occasional echoing honk that somehow reached all the way up there.
Sitting up, a head of dull red hair met him. Tied up in a bun as it was, he could still tell how long it was. A lone verdant green eye locked gazes with him. Despite it being nothing more than a passing glance, he couldn't help but feel so incredibly small. Like he was that small rodent, but it was nonsense. He knew that logically.
Ivy wasn't dangerous...okay, that part was a lie. She was a relaxed individual who normally enjoyed fading off into the background if she was allowed, less of a talker and more of a listener. And he'd spent plenty of time with her over the last few months. Primarily through their many tabletop sessions. Hell, he'd even gotten into an actual argument with her that left him hot in the face at some apparent ruling she was trying to pull. They'd even had a few heart-to-heart moments. One of which alone, and another with Harley barely even a step away.
He shouldn't be feeling this nervous, shouldn't feel like he was stepping across an insurmountable chasm.
They were good; she was a friend.
So why did his palms feel so clammy? Why did it feel like he was going to cross a line of no return?
"…"
He tried to hide how uneasy he felt, but before, it was probably worth less than nothing. But she wasn't like Harley, and didn't try to tease him endlessly about it. Only turned away before pointing off to a seat beside her. A clear invitation as Ivy had ever given.
Coming around the back, he slid into... no, almost collapsed into the seat. A sense of relief filled him as he slowly sank deeper and deeper into the cushions.
There he sat, trying to steady himself further before continuing. He ignored how those almost pupil-less eyes seemed to burrow into the side of his head until he finally turned to face her.
The human-plant hybrid looked a bit off, or maybe this was how she always looked, but he could notice some keen difference. Firstly, with the illumination of the television, he could see how pale her skin had gotten. Going from that dull verdant color to something closer to a mere watercolor. Her deep red hair looked a few shades lighter, and she even appeared to be slowly losing weight. With hollowness to her cheeks and her thinning and cracked lips. Heavy bags hung under her sunken-in eyes.
It did make some sense why he hadn't consciously taken note of these changes; they'd been happening slowly. And if he could admit candidly, it was also because he was too caught up in his own problems to notice anyone else's suffering.
'Man, I'm such a terrible friend.'
"Are you okay?" Maybe it was that concern that finally broke through whatever nervousness had him in a stranglehold.
"I'm fine." She looked at him hard, or maybe just blankly? It was hard to tell sometimes. Was that a slight curve at the corner of her lips? The room was too dim to tell. "Just that time of year."
There was a near onslaught of questions he wanted to throw her way. Each of them poking at some personal topics as he asked her all about the anonymity of a human-plant hybrid, and maybe she would be more than open to them, given her scientific inclinations. But that much could wait.
"If you say so." She was a grown woman at the end of the day, and if she ever needed help, he would be there. They simply weren't at a stage in their relationship where he would be able to fuss over her without a lot of her boundaries. But that was enough stalling. This was probably as much small talk as she could take without blanking out. "Pamela, I need your help."
"…"
Seeing her not respond in any given way besides blinking at him, he recounted his story. But not before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small plastic baggy. Inside, a single neon pink pill seemed to glow even under the dim light. It shimmered and danced as if to somehow mesmerize anyone into partaking in its forbidden fruit.
And unlike with Barbara, he didn't really see a reason to skirt around some of his more illegal activities. The story probably took a good fifteen or so minutes before he finally held up the baggie once more.
"...And this is the drug he used." Albert resisted the urge to lean away, just the pure levels of menace almost oozing off her in that moment. Her expression hadn't changed, still just as flat as ever, but that previous air about her was gone. And she noticeably grew closer, those green orbs taking on a much darker tone.
"Where is he?"
He had to resist the urge to flinch just then; the cold and almost commanding voice was nearly enough to cause goose flesh to sprout all over him. He knew what would've happened if he'd tried to ask her for help during the investigation. Keegan would've just disappeared one day and probably gotten turned into compost...And she would've broken whatever agreement she had that allowed her to wander the streets and stay out of Blackgate. And knowing her, she wouldn't even fight the new charges and would probably march into those cells with her head raised high.
"From what I've been told, he's currently in custody, and they're debating whether or not to charge him first, before or after he gets extradited back to Japan." He reached out slowly, some parts of him hesitant to really bridge that gap between them, but this was more important than that. There had to be some way he could convince her not to ignore all the yellow tape and get rid of the man herself. Even if all he had to do was hold her here until Harley got back...who was he kidding? They would bounce off each other until both of them were back in Blackgate with newly minted murder charges. Resting his hand on her shoulder, he tried to muster up all his courage to lock gazes. Enduring the misplaced beam of hate coming his way. "He's not worth it, okay? He's not worth your freedom. He's being dealt with the full force of the law, and it seems there are some interested parties moving this case along smoothly. Apparently, Japan can't wait to get their hands on him, so he will face the full extent of the law there and probably here as well. Just please, Pamela."
For a moment, it didn't seem like she was going to listen to him. And he fully expected her to shrug off his hand and disappear into the night to go find Keegan herself. But whatever the reasoning, maybe she saw his sincerity or something, or maybe she just weighed the consequences and decided otherwise. While she didn't fully relax, the redhead no longer looked ready to kill someone.
'Hopefully.'
"The victim." It was better to provide her with a new target, an outlet for all that righteous fury that wouldn't land her in a cell. "She's been under the effects of this drug here, Sap of the Bodhi. I've been told that the drug itself isn't addictive, but the...uh release-orgasm while under its effects is. Apparently, it makes you seek stronger and stronger stimulation while under the effects until eventually, normal sex is no longer an option. Maybe I'm not explaining it correctly; I just know that from what's been told me, there doesn't seem to be a cure. And I thought if there's anyone who could find something out about it...it would be you."
Carefully, he placed the baggy in her open palm. Sitting back a bit to provide her with a bit more space, he waited for the moment to pass, and he honestly didn't think she would appreciate him breathing all up in her face like that. Instead, she held up the small baggy to her eye. Her gaze grew colder as she silently observed the neon pill.
Before upending the baggy and allowing the pill to land in the middle of her palm. Rolling it around, she seemed lost in thought for a while. Her gaze went over to the lone potted plant not too far away. Biting her lip for a moment, she turned back to him.
"Give me a few days." Ivy glanced back at the plant, its stem seeming to weakly bend and wriggle towards her. Like a child whining for their parent's attention. Standing to her feet, she began to make her way to one of the bedroom doors. Not even glancing back, she disappeared for a few moments and peeked out. A pair of safety goggles affixed over her eyes, bright blue plastic gloves dangling in her grip. "I'll call you when I have something."
It was as clear a dismissal as he'd ever heard. There were a few questions he had, like, why didn't she just use her plants to analyze the drug then? It probably would've taken her minutes, if not seconds, to do so. She'd been able to synthesize a concoction to get through a heavily mutated Killer Croc's immune system in mere moments after getting a mere drop of his blood.
But a mere aphrodisiac was going to take her days?
He wanted to question her, wanted to know what had changed, but he bit his tongue. Albert came to her for help, and she was providing it; that much was enough.
"Thank you, Pamela."
***
'Status.'
Albert called out silently to the system, taking the time to look at his own reflection in a nearby window to try to avoid looking off into space as if he was on drugs or something.
[Albert Nelson
HP: 20/20
MP: 10/10
SAN: 22/47
LCK: 45/45
IP: 5
Skills:
- Appraise: 28%
- Art/Craft (Photography): 55%
- Acting: 15%
- Disguise: 31%
- Dodge: 25%
- Fire Arms (Handgun): 62%
- Library Use: 60%
- Listen: 36%
- Navigate: 24%
- Occult: 35%
- Persuade: 10%
- Psychology: 55%
- Spot Hidden: 60%
- Stealth: 45%
- Psychometry: 26%
Talents:
- Resourceful
- Lucky
- Psychic Power
Cthulhu Mythos: 0%]
His skills, at least he felt, were coming along nicely. Acting and Disguise increasing wasn't too much of a surprise given how many times he'd been running around Gotham under false names and faces. And with Disguise being the very first skill he'd pushed above thirty through effort and IP alone, he'd honestly expected some kind of reward. Maybe some more IP or maybe even talent or even some form of acknowledgment, but there was nothing. The system being stingy, as always. He already knew Psychology had gone up a point, so that part wasn't all too groundbreaking.
Psychometry also wasn't a surprise either, given how instrumental it was to putting him on the right trail. Maybe he would've eventually found out what kind of horrors Malaya was going through, but it would've taken time. Time she didn't have.
But there were a few notes of concern. Primarily, it didn't seem that his SAN would stop dropping at any rate. Honestly, he didn't really see an actual issue with it besides the fact that it was dropping. Already going well past half his maximum, he hadn't really seen much of a difference. Again, he had to ask if the value even mattered at this point. His thoughts weren't affected, nor even his actions.
Usually, there were supposed to be some very noticeable signs, but where there were, there was a massive question mark to him.
'What a useless stat.' Why had he been so worried before? Maybe he was just being too cautious, that's all. On second thought, why should he have been avoiding Persuade? The skill had done just as much as the other three and probably even more. It had allowed him to use money to get those documents and even allowed him to get more and more answers out of Keegan than he probably would've been able to without it.
It was useful, more than worth whatever perceived danger he once thought it held.
"Hello?!" A pair of pale fingers snapped in his face, ripping him away from his musings. Snapping his gaze away from his own reflection, he glanced at the girl sitting across from him. The annoyance on her face was plain to see. Those large dark eyes narrowed into slits, seemingly to silently dare him to try and space out again. That heat lasted for only a few moments before she deflated. "Look, I get it. Politicking isn't really my thing either, you know? And adding magic to it doesn't really make it any easier...But you need to pay attention, Albert. This is too big for either of us."
"…Okay." Albert shook himself loose of the fog, trying to focus solely on the situation before them. Everything else could wait until after he got back home and could pass out for the few more hours he apparently needed. "Sorry, Marceline. Go ahead, you have my full attention."
"Good, then let me start from the very beginning." Marceline nodded, a small proud smile gracing her lips as she slid the heavily decorated flyer to him. Two figures wearing classic black and white suits stood posed back to back. The male appeared to be middle-aged with a wide, open smile that showed off all his white teeth. With professionally combed back and styled black hair and a small but refined mustache on his face, he almost looked like the very image of what a Magician should be. The other figure appeared much younger than him. She had luscious black hair that seemed to tumble from her shoulders, blue eyes that seemed to spark with an unseen energy. In her hand, reaching out to the viewer, a massive top hat with a bunny peeking its head out took up the majority of the space. "One of the strongest Homi-Magic, Giovanni Zatara, someone who possesses a seat on the Council. Is a stage magician by day. Usually, he and his daughter are stationed over in Las Vegas, but occasionally, they do a traveling show as a disguise to handle a few magical issues. You know, usually, a rebellion of fey. Rogue Magi and just people getting their hands on an unknown grimoire and accidentally summon Hellhounds you know the type."
"Hellhounds?"
"Yeah, yeah." She waved his question off with a degree of casualness that wasn't warranted for their current topic. "Some stupid teens find a demon summoning manual somewhere because some casual Magi leaves it around, before they accidentally summon a fiery demon in the form of a dog. There's usually always some power-hungry fool in its midst; that's probably the only reason why the hellhound would even answer their call. Anyway, they often always cause a scene that requires intervention, hence why the Zataras take the time to go on tour during their off season."
"Well, as you know, when the bigwigs are in town, you go to introduce yourself. Even if they don't take offense to you skipping out, other Magi and influential Ignited will probably start looking at you funny. Honestly, it's probably going to be painless. You just need to sit in a theater as an insanely powerful Magi performs stage magic, clap when required, and just enjoy the show...It'll just take an evening, and honestly, you look like you need the break."
"Who else is going?"
"Well, me, of course," She began to count on her fingers. "And probably the whole gang. You can bring people if you want; actually, the more the merrier. They love a full house."
"Are there any rules I need to follow? Like some kind of etiquette or a dress code?"
"Not really, besides the obvious. Don't start a fight there unless you want to get 'disappeared' in their show. And as for etiquette? No, frankly, the Zataras are probably one of the more relaxed Magi Families when it comes to that. Just don't be rude. And as for a dress code? Wear semi-decent clothes. I've seen people come in there half-naked, but they were drunk, so maybe a bit above that level? Just make sure they're clean. Zatanna, his daughter and the beauty right there, likes to mingle with people around her own age, so it'll probably be better if you don't smell awful. But don't worry about her; she's nice. Just...just uh-try not to stare too much."
"There's got to be a story there."
This obviously wasn't Marceline's first time around in all this, and from the way she spoke and how her cheeks reddened, there had to be something there.
"Don't worry about that…" For one of the few times since meeting Marceline, she actually appeared bashful and looked away from him. A goofy grin plastered across her face as she gazed off into space.
Shaking his head at her antics, Albert took the flier and really looked at it.
'I do need a break.' That much was true; this recent case had nearly pushed him to his very limits and then some. And honestly, a night watching some good ol'fashion stage magic sounded pretty appealing. And he even knew a few people he could invite as well without much issue. Even if he had something to do, maybe he would've still gone either way. After all, who wouldn't want to see the iconic Zatara father-daughter duo? Who knew how long that would last before Dr. Fate got his greedy hands on that relationship.
"So, what time do I need to be there?"