(Edited with Grammarly on 6/25/2026)
If Albert thought she would be reasonable about any of this, he was quickly proven wrong when he could hear that all too familiar hiss and feel the bus rise up a few inches before the forward force nearly sent him sprawling before the entrance. Clinging tightly to the cold pole beside him, he could do nothing but watch as they left the bus stop quickly behind.
Snapping his eyes back up, he watched that stony face facing forward. A furrow to her brow and a snarl upon her thin lips. She didn't really seem the bluffing type, and with her experience, he didn't believe it would take long before they were stopping in front of a police station.
Sure, there was a pretty easy way to get her to stop, but really, putting a gun to the side of her head felt like such a massive level of escalation that it really didn't feel reasonable. She hadn't injured him, physically threatened him, or really anything that warranted such a response. All this came from a place of concern. A protective reaction akin to that of a mother grizzly. He couldn't-wouldn't go down that road, despite how easy it might seem. Besides, he was sure as hell that holding her at gunpoint now would get him slapped with a felony charge faster than he could blink.
Instead, he scrambled out of the small area, clinging tightly to the rail and slamming into the nearest seat.
"I wasn't sure if you were going to point that lil pee shooter at me or not," The bus driver let out a crooked and gap-toothed grin, but it was anything but friendly. With her eyes still on the road, one bony finger reached over and clicked off a small radio on one side of her chest. Over the bright yellow hazard coat she wore, the small device flashed once. Going from bright green to a stagnant yellow.
"I wouldn't do that."
He felt the need to defend himself there as if the thought hadn't just crossed his mind.
"Well, I don't know you." She shrugged, wheeling through the streets of Gotham with an ease that belied her fragile frame. "For all I knew, you could've been some crackhead or worse with you following that girl around. Now quit stalling or sit there and wait for me to stop at the police station."
'I could lie...But with what? Say I was a concerned family member?'
Other than that excuse, nothing else really fit. After all, there really wasn't a reason to follow someone for this long without there being some form of nefarious intent. And at least going at the family angle would induce a lot more sympathy into the situation...But this woman had a knowing gleam in her eye. Years of observing people would do that, especially in this line of work. The things she'd seen, the conversations she'd heard. It was very likely she would be able to sniff out any lie he'd try to spin and probably just ignore everything he said afterwards as she made her way to the police station.
He was a minor, so actually charging him with anything would be a tough ask. A misdemeanor at worst, but it was likely they wouldn't give him more than a slap on the wrist, along with a very stern warning. But that in itself wasn't the problem; it would be the fact that his face would be noted down. A minor thing that would tear away a layer of his own anonymity, making it that much harder if he was spotted doing something like this again. Which was already a guarantee.
"I'm a part of a private investigation agency." Instead, it would be better to downplay exactly how exposed he actually was. Leave some things unsaid and allow her to fill in the blanks by herself. Assumptions were going to be his best friends going forward. "We primarily deal with personal matters. Ranging from finding lost animals to tracking down items or people if it comes down to it. But primarily, we help people solve mysteries. Here, I have a business card...let me just get it real quick."
"Just leave it on the seat, I'll get to it later." She waved him off, clearly someone fed up with businesses shoving ads in her face. "Okay, Mister 'PI', answer me this: your agency, why would they get someone so young? You're what, thirteen-fourteen? Last I checked, that's well below the legal limit. I know some companies don't give a damn about child labor laws, but I always figured they were more near the docks. Physical labor sorts, not this."
"Rest assured, I am sixteen and fully emancipated. I am well paid, enough to pay the bills, and that's all I can ask for, really."
Not a technical lie, he did pay himself a rather hefty wage. In fact, maybe he was in store for a raise here soon.
"Right…" He could see her narrow through beady eyes further in the massive rear-view mirror. "Then what kind of mess was that girl herself involved in? I swear, if some debt collector or some thugs hired your agency, I'm sure as hell going to drop you right off at the police station no matter what you say after."
"No-no," The teen showed his gloved palms in surrender. "Nothing like that, from what I know, the agency has never taken on those sorts of jobs. And from what they're talking about, it doesn't seem like they'll ever take on anything like that."
Just the thought of being turned into a bloodhound for shady businesses to use, track down, and harass was enough to send a shiver down his spine. Something awful would need to happen for him to even think about going down that route, like being under the boot of a crime boss. Or maybe it was because of how naive he was, who knew how he would feel after a year in this cesspool of a city? Better people than him had been warned away here after all.
"But as for the reason," He hesitated here. So far, he kinda prided himself on his tight lip habits...Okay, maybe he'd spilled the beans to some of his friends, but those incidents usually had a pretty good reason behind them. Each of them had skills or connections he needed to move forward with certain cases. And other than that, he could usually shunt off inquiries by falling behind his tried and true 'confidentiality,' but here, it didn't seem like she would be satisfied with his usual response. "It's a bit private, let's just say she's having relationship issues. With that said, I do have a few questions for you, of course, not for free. I'm sure working these long hours grows heavy on you. You deserve to treat yourself every once in a while...Do you have anywhere you would like to travel to?"
After the rather generous actions of Adrian, his bribe pool had spiked in growth. While he would love to keep some of that money for more supplies and maybe an upgrade in his lifestyle, if it meant he needed to bite the bullet to settle things, then so be it.
Money comes, money goes.
"You got balls of brass, huh?" She cackled wildly, like that of a crone on the outskirts of a medieval village. "Guess there's a reason why they keep you around? What? Did they really give you a bribe fund or something? But no, boy. I'm not going to take money from someone younger than all my grandchildren. Do you think the Lord would look kindly on something like that? No...but one of their birthdays is coming up, and they've been asking me to buy them one of those brand new WayneCubes. I would love to buy them one, of course, but they're a pretty penny, a clean two-fifty, clean outside my budget as a poor, old bus driver."
"Ah." Albert nodded sagely. The tension from his shoulders was fading like smoke in a strong breeze; this was way more his speed. "I heard they're top of the line, a leading example that's causing a real headache for everyone else in that field...But such a gift should come with a few games and maybe another controller so they're not just playing alone."
"Interesting." She rubbed her chin in thought, more than willing to keep playing this back and forth. Their speed noticeably drops to a crawl. "I thought they would be kind enough to pre-load some games on there, but I guess WayneCorp is still a company at the end of the day. But while such a gift is appealing and everything, as of right now, it's just empty words. The closest shops don't open for another six hours, and I wouldn't expect someone to be carrying around hundreds of dollars on their person, lest they're just asking to be robbed. And I couldn't just ask them to hand over their debit card either, only the most stupid and naive would even think about doing something that idiotic."
"What if this gift were to be dropped off somewhere? Or maybe handed off to someone trusted?"
"While that is nice, it's just talk. I know how men work; they'll whisper sweet nothings in your ear to get what they want before disappearing like a ghost. No, I would need something more concrete."
"I mean, you know what I look like. If I were to try to disappear, you could always just drop my description to the cops and be done with it."
"You're a kid," She shook her head, dropping all pretenses. The game was fun for a bit, but it was time to get to business. "The cops won't do anything to you unless I drag you to the station by your ear. If I were to just tell them what you looked like, they would smile and nod before tossing it away the moment I left. No, I need something more substantial."
"Like what?" He frowned; hopefully, she didn't ask for anything too unreasonable, else he would have no choice but to cut this deal short.
"I would ask for that pee-shooter, but I'm not the sort of person to rob someone of their few ways of protection...Give your shoes."
"My...shoes?" It was a rather odd request, but nothing really outside his limits or anything. "Why them?"
"It's cold out there," The bus driver shrugged. "And those shoes of yours look mighty broken in by now. I'm sure that while you're walking these rough and cold ass streets, you won't 'accidentally' forget, and you'll probably be pretty quick about it as well. You could just go somewhere and buy some new ones, but I'm willing to bet my left eye that it'll take forever to get them to where those are now. Chafing, slipping, and maybe some blisters if you walk around a lot."
That...that did make some sense. In a sort of sick way. These particular shoes were pretty comfy already, and warm too. Something he would be missing while trudging back home for replacements.
"In that case, let's just meet back up as soon as possible. What do you say about later on today?" Albert countered, loosening his laces as he slid the shoes away from him. Leaving him with nothing but a pair of low-riding, dark gray socks far too thin to be walking around these puddle and glass-shard-filled streets. And from the very moment his soles touched the steel floor. An icy bolt of lightning shot up from his feet. Forcing goose flesh to form and crawl up his calf and all the way up to his hip. Just as fast, he retreated with an expression of horror that he wished was more played up than it actually was. "How about two o'clock, instead?"
"Two is fine," She yawned loudly, zooming past a blue and white building with a few parked patrol vehicles in the back. The letters 'GCPD' were emblazoned across the front in bold. From within, he could see a bored clerk at the desk, a few officers bringing in what seemed to be drunk and...and was that a flash of red he saw? Whatever the case, he could feel his shoulders slump as they sped on past. "Well? Ask your questions and do it fast before I get some passengers."
"Yes, thank you...First, I realized we never introduced ourselves. You may call me Clive. What's your name?"
"You sound like a politician," the woman let out a ghastly smile, showing all of her remaining teeth in a way similar to a wolf or hyena. "Okay then, 'Clive', I'm Esme, but you will call me Mrs. Bryant. I'm still your elder, boy."
"Very well, Mrs. Bryant." He nodded, not even blinking at the demand. Such a small ask wasn't worth arguing over, and so, curling his feet under himself in some effort to force warmth back into them, the teen pulled out a small notebook and began. "I'll be quick about it. How long have you known Mrs. Barton?"
"I don't know her," Mrs. Bryant scoffed, blowing back a loose strand of gray hair out of her face as she turned the corner. Ignoring the rapidly growing honking behind them with a practiced ease. "In my line of work, I see so many faces every single day that it's usually impossible to connect names with faces. Not a lot of people want to talk; most just want to get to or from work without having to interact with anyone. And I can respect that. But those who actually talk to me? Those are a lot harder to forget. Sometimes it's just someone rambling about their life, strung out on crack or trying to get me to fork over some cash...And I'll admit, despite my age, I do get hit on occasionally. Usually by people who obviously have nowhere else to go, probably just looking for a place to rest their head without someone kicking it in."
"It's easier for me to remember people if they're regulars, like that Mrs.Barton? Yeah, it's hard to miss someone I see at the beginning of my shift and the end. Never once spoke to me, and I never to her, picked her up every so often around noon-ish to that sketchy ass hotel before coming back around ten at night, so no, I don't really 'know' her. But I started noticing her a little over half a year ago? Now, let me ask you a question. Mrs? So I'm guessing she's married?"
"Yep."
"Huh." She sat back in thought. "Never saw a wedding ring on her finger though, never would've guessed."
"Is this normal from what you saw?"
He noted down that important fact, just further piling up the evidence of Malaya's infidelity.
"That strung-out look she has? Yeah, that's normal. Well, not really normal, but you know what I mean. It can't be crack or meth; people act absolutely batshit on that stuff. Given how relaxed she is, maybe it could be reggie or ketamine, but I'm not an expert...Well, I did have a hippy phase in the seventies, but everyone did back then."
"Do you recall any strangeness outside of this?"
"Hmm...I do remember the reason why I started noticing her; she had this pretty massive bruise around her wrists. It was clearly from rope, cheap rope too."
"How could you tell?"
"Well, unless the fucker is tying these insanely tight knots, cotton ropes won't do that. Around them, there was clear irritation to the skin. So, it had to be some cheap rope from a complete fucking novice. Coconut rope had to be. She just reminded me a bit of myself when I was her age."
"Did you see anyone with her on the way back?"
"No…not that I can remember. She's a pretty girl, so usually there's always someone nearby willing to try hitting on her, but that's usually during the day. At night, not so much...I'm trying to think, but take this with a grain of salt, I do recall there being a man waiting with her at that seedy ass hotel. Slapped her ass and everything when she got on and just waved as we left. But after that, I don't remember seeing him again."
"Do you remember what he looked like?"
"Tall and built. Handsome too, maybe that's where he got that cocky ass attitude from. He had dirty blonde hair, obviously dyed that color, and had some darker or tanned skin."
"Do you think she knew him, or if it was just some creep?"
"Knew her or not, he's still a fucking creep to me….But I think they knew each other. At least from how close they were sitting when I got there, like with his arm around her shoulders and just groping the shit out of her. I think I even saw him point at a few bruises on her neck while smirking like he was proud of something."
At least Albert got a description of the lover. A picture would be better, but now he could just wait outside the hotel and look for anyone with those features before tailing them.
"Did anything else stick out?"
"I did see him get into a pretty nice car, has to be this year's model. Thought it was kinda strange, you know? If you're with someone, you at least show them the basic level of decency and take them home. Not just toss them on the bus...Not unless you want to degrade them or something. Dehumanize them, maybe? To send a message that all he sees her as is a piece of meat, a toy to be tossed once he's done? I might not know him, but I know how men like that think...Okay, maybe I don't know, and if I'm wrong and he's the perfect gentleman, then I'll be the first one to apologize...But I don't think it's likely. Now, I've got another question for you, Clive."
"Go ahead."
He didn't really see an issue coming from this, plus it would give him more time to continue jotting down notes.
"It was her husband, right? Then, who hired you? Or at least your client is connected to him in some way? I kind of know, but what happens after all this?"
"Divorce, separation at least. At least that's what I think."
She didn't need to know that the answer came directly from Isaac's mouth, but it was an obvious response that he couldn't really be accused of blabbing. After all, who would stay with someone who had been having an affair for this long? Someone desperate and afraid of being alone, that's who.
And while looking at those happy photos, hearing his client's side of the story, did fill the teen's heart with an ache, it was clear what needed to happen. Maybe it was just skewed from his own thoughts, but from the way Mrs.Bryant's lips twisted up, he suspected she thought otherwise.
"Listen, Clive. I know I'm asking a lot, but she just reminds me too much of myself...I'm not asking you to keep all this hidden because she's not hiding it very well to begin with. My first husband...he had a thing. A kink. Where he would want to watch me sleep with another man before coming back to 'reclaim' me in the roughest way possible. Didn't know about it until a few years into our marriage, and by then, I couldn't really leave. I stupidly dropped out of college to be with him and didn't have much work history, so I was entirely financially dependent on him. And my parents were extremely religious to the point where they didn't even acknowledge divorce as an option. It was actually one of the men he had me sleep with that helped me out in the end. Got me set up with a clerk position at some dentist and worked there long enough to finally divorce the creep. I'm not saying this to inspire some sympathy or pity, but I know sexual abuse when I see it. Just...just look into the husband, okay? Make sure he's not connected to all this, okay?"
"I can do that."
Albert agreed readily, as he learned; rarely ever were his cases so open and shut like this. There was always some twist. And maybe it would be a good idea to trail Isaac for a bit as well.
"Good." He ignored the way her voice quavered as the bus slammed to a halt. Holding his hands out suddenly, he clung with dear life to the seat. The notebook is nearly folding in on itself into a tight ball. And when he looked up to see what had caused the sudden stop, the door hissed open before she nearly snarled at him. "Now get the hell off my bus!"
It seemed he'd unintentionally brought up memories she'd rather let lie and at that, he felt a spike of guilt just then. But he knew there was nothing he could say to ease the hurt, to even begin healing the wounds deep within her own psyche. She probably was able to live day by day, moment by moment, by stuffing those traumatic memories far beneath the surface where she could probably forget about them some days.
But dragging them to the surface like this...yeah, her lashing out was expected. She needed the space, and he would gladly give it to her. But just as he was prepared to depart, Mrs. Bryant snapped at him once more.
"Take your damn shoes, boy! Are you trying to catch a damn cold?!"
***
Albert couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh of relief from the very moment he collapsed into one of his office chairs. Just allowing the fatigue from the day to flow away from him in waves. He could feel the cold bite deep into him, passing through his clothes like a jagged knife. Could feel that bone weariness trying to weigh him down. And could even hear the frantic rumbling of his stomach as if it was trying to grow teeth to take matters into its own hands.
Just sitting there, head leaned back and body relaxed, was almost enough to lull him off into the sweet embrace of sleep. But that lone object stuffed deep in his pocket just wouldn't allow it, the allure too great to ignore for even a moment more.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a simple but familiar black scarf.
'Polyester.'
He thought in a daze, gloved finger tips gliding across its surface. Even in the dark, he could see how thin it was. White is exposed through the mesh fabric. Point either to it being cheap or, more likely, from the oil stains around its crown, it having been heavily used.
So far, he'd heard from Isaac's point of view. Had come to his own conclusion by rummaging through her bag and following her throughout the day. And even got another outsider's point of view on the situation. Each of them possesses their own biases.
But there was another side he hadn't been able to observe. One person who never got the chance to tell their own story. And given his client's wishes, confronting her was already out of the question. So it was likely he would never be able to understand things from her perspective...at least until now.
Pulling off both gloves, he allowed his bare fingers to graze against the cool fabric. And with an effort of will, he pushed that button from within himself.
[MP: 5/10]
A stream, alien and cruel energy, flowed down from that dam. Crashing down his brain stem, making a mockery of the frigid temperatures this reality could ever create. Forcing painful goose flesh to form along his spine, crawling down and across his shoulders, cutting a bloody furrow along his flesh.
He could feel it then, feel his heart slow. Hear its beat become more subdued and delayed, could feel his lungs stutter once. Twice, thrice before air could finally reach him.
That energy, Magic Points or MP, the system liked to call it, was something entirely different from providence or LCK. Those grains, while aloof a lot of the time, did serve its purpose and spent most of the time lashing out at the world. Constantly fighting off some influence he couldn't even hope to observe.
But this frigid river was an entirely different beast. It didn't pretend to care. Didn't pretend to be benevolent. It felt...cruel in a detached way. From the way it made sure its passage was felt, leaving him in mute agony as it made itself known. Sure, the feeling had dulled as he used this energy, but he didn't ever think he would ever get fully used to it.
Especially not when he could feel pressure build up from within his fingertips, seeming to press and bulge against an invisible wall. More so, when the barrier broke, and in his inner eye, he could 'see' countless strands of energy spool out from them. Could see how they waved in the air happily, could see how they all as one zeroed in on the scarf before launching forward like something terrible trying to disguise itself as some sick approximation of an anemone.
And just as those 'strands' touched the surface, a similar barrier seemed to block them from going forward. But unlike how they forced themselves out of his skin, they waved disjointedly. Up and down, side-to-side like it was a tongue 'tasting' something other before that barrier seemed to shudder away from their touch, falling away to allow everything to come flooding in.
He felt...content. Happy in his life. Elated even. To know he loved and was loved in turn...what better could there ever be? How had he honestly lived this long without ever truly experiencing this?
And that made it so much more gut-wrenching when a deep longing interposed itself in the forefront of his mind. A longing so deep that he could FEEL it deep within his stomach. In an organ he knew he didn't possess, but still it was there.
Why had they'd left him? Why was the world so dark? So cold? What had he done to deserve all this? Life had been perfect, love had filled their lives, and now those same hallways were so empty and quiet.
Confusion slammed into place, nearly kicking him out of his stupor as he continued to fall into the stream. Who was this person? Why were they talking to him? What did they want?
Fangs bit down, pumping his system full of an icy dread so pronounced that it had even brought back that old hiccup. Racking his body something fierce, drowning out the anger that tried to rise up from the depths. Crashing together to create a strange concoction that left him feeling as if he was ready to puke at any given moment.
Until, eventually, slowly...A reluctant acceptance scratched at his mind. Defeat so heavy that it was as if the entire world had been placed upon his shoulders. It was just one time. One single time, and everything would be over. He could just close his eyes and pretend.
At least that was the plan, until a heat rose up from his chest. Billowing out from his stomach and filling his body entirely. A bliss so blinding that it lit all his nerves aflame. Drowning all else in its sickening embrace. That love, resistant like stone, began to ebb away under the relentless tide. Completely crushing that longing under its immensity, sweeping away that fear until it was nothing more than a speck on the horizon. Anger? What was that? He should feel angry that it took him this long to experience something so divine, something that made him feel one step closer to Go-
Albert, with all his might, wrenched himself out of the trance. Kicking back violently, his back slammed against the hard tiled floor, and the pain allowed him to draw some semblance of control back. Just anything to be away from that accursed scarf.
His vision blurred, his body alight with heat and clothes clinging to every inch of his skin. Chest rising and falling in rapid succession as he took this time to scramble away, keeping the damned fabric just in case it tried to leap back into his grip.
"W-w-" His throat felt so incredibly dry, lips cracked heavily to the point where he could taste copper. "W-what the hell was that?!"