This DCverse is Maddening

Okay despite Albert's complaining, Psychometry wasn't the worse psychic power he could've gotten. From his own memories, Medium really wouldn't have functioned anywhere near as close to how Marceline does her little dance. The talent instead of allowing him to speak to the dead would instead only allow spirit to possess and speak through him instead.

Just the thought of...something walking around in his skin, using his own mouth to speak, made a cold shiver to run up his spine.

'No thank you,' He thought ruefully,' That's literally the start of sooo many horror movies.'

"Albert!"

His boss called out to him, shattering the youth of that fugue like state. Looking around, he saw the entire front part of the store completely clean. Sure there were a couple large garbage bags off to the side, but those really wouldn't be too heavy to swing over his shoulder and take them out. Even the tables and booths were wiped clean, with the slight scent of lemon in the air.

Looking further over, the man could be spotted behind the counter. A greenish apron, covered in flour and few splashes of red sauce, laid over-top a tight shirt that stretched across his portly figure. Thinning gray hair shoved underneath a cap, with an even thicker mustache than even the legendary Gordon. Just looking at the beauty made the teen touch his own invisible staff in equal parts of awe and envy.

'I'll get there,' He lied to himself, walking incredibly carefully of the drying floors,' I even saw a few whiskers! That's a sign...right?'

Indeed, this morning he had routinely inspected the top of his lip for any presence of facial hair and actually found something. Three short and nearly invisible whiskers. His original plan was to allow them to grow some more in hope that it would somehow multiply into a complete mustache or beard that he could be proud of.

That plan had gone poof in a flurry of blonde hair.

"Yes, Mr. Robinson?"

The man before him was a lot of things. Crass, cranky, mean, proud and overall rude. But there was a reason why people kept coming here. And it wasn't just because of the delicious pizza.

"You did a good job today," Robinson didn't look at him, instead looked directly over his head," It's getting pretty late, go home… And take this with you."

And only then did the older man push a large pizza box in his direction, steam piratically leaking out the small edges. Just the scent alone was enough to make Albert begin salivating on the spot.

"Thank you Mr. Robinson." He places a white gloved hand over of the incredibly warm box, fantasies of devouring the whole thing flashed through his mind. He was sure Marceline wouldn't mind waiting a bit longer...right? "How much do I owe you?"

"Keep your damn money!" The man roared before sliding an envelope his way, still all while not looking at him in the slightest. "You need it more than I do! Go get a haircut or something better to wear, now get out! I don't want to see you hanging out around here. You got me? Those hoodlums are no good!"

Albert only grinned, warmth swelling deep inside his heart as looked down at the two objects. This, this was the reason why people kept coming back here. While the food here was simply to die for, the owner had a heart of gold that couldn't be hidden behind harsh words. Just looking at the freshly made pizzas off to the side, despite the store being close to 'closing', was enough to tell that.

'It seems none of those 'hoodlums' will be going hungry tonight..'

Those 'hoodlums', as Robinson put it, were teens no older than he was that had formed a gang...Okay calling it a gang was more of an overstatement. From his understanding, they were predominately homeless kids who came together for protection. Other than a small incident in the beginning, he had no problems with them.

"Thank you Mr. Robinson." Albert knew the man liked to keep things short and so got everything ready. While getting everything together was a bit of a balancing act, especially with his arm still stiff, he eventually got the pizza to balance enough to where his hand was free to whip out steel just in case. But then those bags finally made themselves known," I can take those before-"

"Bah!" Robinson interrupted him," Don't worry about those! I'll have some of those hoodlums take care of it! Now get gone! Get!"

"Goodnight Mr. Robinson."

Albert grinned at the reflect of the flustered man, amusement evident in his eyes.

'What a tsundere..'

***********************************************************************************

At first, his walk through the darkening streets had been slightly harrowing. Not only did he have to dodge out of the way of completely uncaring adults that would have no problem crashing into him and ruining his ghost solver. But also he had to deal with the occasional new thug who thought he was easy pickings.

Just a flash of steel was enough to shutdown any of that before things could escalate.

But as he continued to walk to his own slice of paradise, the amount of people began to dramatically drop until eventually that trickle became a sudden drought. The general hubbub of city life all faded gradually just as his foot crossed that almost visible barrier.

Suddenly, there was no signs of life anywhere in sight. All the surrounding buildings had boarded up windows, multiple for sell signs and over all had the air of a ghost town despite being located in previously heavily populated residential street.

Ever since 'The Neighborhood Massacre', the surrounding blocks have been completely abandoned. Whether it was some kind of silent protest against the city for it's current actions or just due to superstitious views. Plenty of times had Harley called the street he called home, haunted. And swore up and down that she saw some ghosts on her way over.

It didn't take long before he came across the only other living person on the street, their small frame seeming large under the near oppressive emptiness that this part of the city had become. The person in question wore a heavy cotton shirt that seemed even baggier on them due to their slender frame, short brown hair that ended just below her chin and tanner skin that looked similar in tone to when he first met the girl.

"Hey."

Marceline smiled at him, but looking closer he realized she wasn't even looking at him. And instead her eyes were locked on the cooling pizza box before him. Actually, it was likely that she was speaking to the pizza itself and not the person behind it.

"Hey," He rolled his eyes," My eyes are up here."

"I'm sorry," She decided to play along, finally looking up at him with those hazel eyes that sparkled with mischief," Forgive me...it's just your assets..can you really blame me? You're just hanging everything out like you want people to look."

"Here take this." If it was possible, Albert would've rolled his eyes harder as he handed the box to her. When it came to teasing, the medium was certainly a great deal better than him at it.

"Oh man…" Her voiced sounded like choked up as she opened up the box to take a little peak," Double pepperoni, green peppers and mushrooms… I can die happy now. Just let me eat first and then you can chop me into little pieces."

"Can't do that yet," Albert said morosely," I still need you to make sure my house isn't haunted."

"It's not." She mumbled out, already biting into an extra cheesy slice that stretched in a simply mouth watering way. Despite how much steam was coming off the slice, the girl refused to let that incredibly hot mouthful go. It took a few hissing chews to get everything down, leaving behind smattering of sauce and grease at the corner of her mouth. "Ghosts are generally everywhere in the world. Most of them are just wandering around without a clear goal in mind, some of them don't even realize their dead. So they're harmless a lot of the time since they can't affect the physical world and eventually, they too will naturally go to whatever afterlife is in place for them."

"Remember, instances like Marian Gran are rare. Incredibly so. She was an incredibly powerful ghost due to not only her traumatic death but also because of her strong attachments to the world. Things would've ended a lot worse if we weren't in her teaching age group."

"Wait." He looked enviously at the epic cheese pull preformed before him, a chill running up his spine as her words hit home," You mean, we could've been in danger?"

"Yeah, do you have anything to drink?"

"I have some back home."

"Look at you," A greasy grin spread across her face," Inviting girls back home...Just so you know, I'm not an easy girl. You'll have to work a lot harder to get me to follow down that dark and empty street."

"But in all honesty," Marceline continued," I can still do a walk through and make sure. But I really don't expect much. Plus besides, I get to see your new home. What kind of drinks do you have there?"

"Water." He laughed slightly as her face scrunched up in disgust," But I also have some juice and carbonated beverages."

"...Carbonated beverages?" She quirked a brow, following in step as they start their walk," What are you, a thesis?"

"I found that calling it that was for the best…" Just remembering the rare argument Harley had managed to drag the poison mistress into, was enough for the exhaustion of the day to slam into him like a pile of bricks. That particular argument had forced him to end their routine gaming sessions early and scuttle back home just to avoid being dragged into the whirlpool that was: pop or soda..

"Whatever." She shrugged," As long as it's not water. Why the hell would I want that?"

"To stay hydrated?"

"You can do that by drinking something tastier."

"I think you're just addicted to sugar."

"Maybe I am." Marceline shrugged," But is that really the worse thing out there?"

"Say that trying to quit."

"No thank you, I like sugar and there's nothing anyone can say to make me stop eating the stuff. Type II Diabetes be damned."

The conversation died out pretty quickly after that, whether it was due to the silent streets grating at every supernatural nerve in his body or the soft hissing the girl let out as she forcefully devoured slice after slice with great gusto. Whether this was her first meal of the day, he didn't know and didn't wish to bring down the peaceful atmosphere by asking such a morose question.

Albert didn't know her exact situation or why she stayed at the shelter, but felt it wasn't ideal to ask as of yet. While they were friends, they weren't close enough to exchange backstories.

"I meant to ask," Marceline mumbled through a stuffed mouth," What's with the gloves? Is it like a fashion statement or something?"

"These?" He looked down at his white cotton gloves that had become a constant fixture in his life since choosing his talent. "I...ignited not to long ago and turns out my 'spark' is touch based...so gloves."

That wasn't exactly a lie, more of a misdirection than anything else. He had realized exactly how unnerving his ability might seem to people, as there was no way to keep a secret from an object of all things. It could even be seen as invasive in a way. So by wearing gloves and only using the talent with them off, he could mislead people into believing that the object in question had to be touched by his bare skin.

'It's always good to keep a card up my sleeve..'

Choosing Psychology was probably one of the best decisions he made during character creation, the skill had been a simple godsend. While he felt a bit bad about manipulating Marceline, a secret can only be kept by one person.

The girl in question froze in step, pizza hanging out of her mouth as she gaped at teen who just dropped a bombshell.

"...What? Really? When? Wait, we'll talk more of this when we get inside." She begrudgingly placed the slice back in the box, her gusto trampled upon by questions galore. "How much longer do we have to go?"

"We're already here."

Albert said, stopping before a familiar small two-story building. The building in question had large windows with heavy metal shutters covering them, uneven bricking that looked it could do with a fresh layer of paint. A light outline of the business's previous name was slightly visible, something that most assuredly would be fixed the moment he got either the time to paint it all himself or pay someone else to do it instead.

"Ladies first." He said joking as he unlocked the front door and opened it for the short brunette to go through, but she only looked into the insanely dark building and back at him with a simply incredulous look on her face.

"Uh no thanks. You can go into the murder building first."

"Really?" He sent his own incredulous look her way," You literally see dead people, and you're scared of a dark building?"

"Not scared per-say…" Despite her words, Marceline didn't move a single step forward and instead kept looking into the maw with an uneasy expression," Like c'mon! This is literally the start of every scary movie out there! Me, a delicate girl, being lured into a dark building by some hoodlum?"

'What's with people thinking I'm up to no good?'

"Look," He had grown accustomed to his building and knew there really wasn't a lot in there currently to bump into," I'll go first, turn on the lights and then everything should be fine. Right?"

"But if you go in there, maybe a masked killer will go after you or me!" Her eyes darted side to side as though to find her proclaimed 'masked killer'. Albert sighed internally, knowing that if he ever introduced her to Harley, the two would truly be like two peas in a pot.

'That'll be a complete nightmare…'

"You watch way too many horror films.." He shook his head and leaned his body further into the building," The light switch in right here, wait a bit."

And with that, he rummaged around in the dark until his fingers flicked the lights on. Immediately, the overhead bulbs flashed on. Filling the small room in it's glow and without waiting from the brunette, he stepped inside.

The area of empty, looking nothing like the mess it had once been. Together with the help of the blonde, they had cleaned up the room thoroughly. Tossing out everything but a single desk that faced the door and three chairs. Besides that, everything was taken down to the bare-bones essentials. There wasn't even any posters to cover up the occasional exposed bricks.

"Wow…" Marceline said as she finally scrounged up the nerve to walk through the entrance," You live here? I know Gotham's a shit hole, but do you really have sleep on the desk? Doesn't that get uncomfortable?"

"I heard sleeping on a hard surface is good for your back, now get out of the way I need to lock back up."

Just because he lived on a ghost street with not another resident in blocks, that didn't mean he didn't forget where he was. Leaving a door unlocked in Gotham was just like inviting any rando to just waltz right in.

"The kitchen is in the back. Skip the first door, and turn right at the end of the hall."

"What's behind the first door? Some kind of basement demon?"

"Worse. A bathroom demon."

"...No wonder there's so many ghost waiting in line here."

"I don't know if you're just messing me or serious, but I really didn't need to know that."

"You're welcome!"

He could hear her skipping down the hall and let out a quiet chuckle as he locked up the front up tightly. It really wouldn't deter someone determined enough to break down the door but it should provide him with enough time to get ready and pump who ever it was full of holes...After making sure it wasn't Harley just being annoying again.

Turning around, Albert silently eyed the bathroom door and gave it a wide berth. While Marceline could just be pulling his leg, it didn't hurt to be careful. Especially when the undead are involved. What happens if one of them gets violent and decide to posses him for some reason? He really didn't want to die in a bathroom.

"Hey Albert?" The medium in question that made him incredibly weary of his own bathroom, called out from the break room turned kitchen. Turning the corner, he got a good look at the small room. His 'kitchen' wasn't anything grand. Just a smallish room with a few cabinets and draws side by side an old fridge that had been a nightmare to clean, and an old gas oven. There was a small table off to the side where he usually ate at and that the brunette herself had plopped her box down on. "Why does all your pop bottles have 'soda' taped over their labels?"

"It's a long story. Very long, and exhausting." His shoulders slumped visibly at those words, eyes looking far off into the distance as that familiar high pitch voice tried to explain reason to him. The brunette only shrugged at his antics and closed the fridge door with a bright orange bottle in one hand and a mug in the other. Sitting down, she continued to eat with great gusto completely uncaring of how feral she looked in that moment. "There's no rush, no one's going to take it from you...Nevermind."

He had to resend his words after taking one look at the box of heaven before him, gulping audibly at the remaining pieces. She was indeed correct to gobble everything down as quickly as possible. He wasn't even hungry and the beauty before him made his stomach rubble with greed.

"You can take a slice from my cold and dead hands." Marceline mumbled with bulging cheeks as she tried to chew quicker, even more sauce and grease coating the edges of her lips. And despite her teasing tone, he didn't think it was a joke at all. Looking her over, he did notice she was a bit skinnier than he last saw her. That heavy cotton shirt nearly draped around her.

"Don't choke," He said, really not wanting to bring down the joking mood with his questions. If she truly needed help or wanted to talk about it, then she would. Forcing her to talk at this point would probably only make her clam up tightly," I can explain these while you eat."

He wiggled his gloved fingers to emphasis what he meant and received a nod in turn.

"So, these didn't happen all to long ago." Albert started," I was sitting in my office upstairs and when I picked up a nearby stapler, I could… 'feel' foreign emotions not my own. In-contentment, resentment, anger, lust, fear and greed. And then I got a few flashes of someone using it to sloppily put together some documents. I couldn't really tell you what the person looked like or what was written on there. I kinda freaked out a bit and tried standing up only for my hands to touch the armrest, before even more flashes of foreign emotions slammed into me….The process continued until I put these on."

"…." The girl looked more series as she chewed thoughtfully, slowing down to mere a crawl as her mind churned behind those hazel orbs. And after gulping, she finally spoke," There's many things that could've been. From hallucination brought on my trauma, to drug induced hysteria. I must ask, did you feel drained at all?"

"Yes." He could see it to, draining his Magic Points (MP) was a rather strange sensation. It was like he had coolant running down his brain stem, along his arms and into his finger tips. And it also left his mind feeling a bit congested, like his head was filled with helium and it was ready to pick him up to float away. Really not a pleasant sensation in the slightest.

"Hmmmm…" She looked a bit thoughtful and used her sleeve to wipe away the pizza remnants from her face. It wasn't long before the teen plucked a single hairpin out of her locks and placed it on the table before him. The object in question didn't look like anything special, it was bronze in color and looked a bit dated. With little bits of dullness on it's surface that no amount of oil or coating could fix. A series of obviously face gems lined it's side, making it seem like something a grandmother would wear. Not someone around his own age. "Don't give me that look. This is a Specter Piece. I don't think you're pulling my leg but I have to make sure. Use whatever you have on it and tell me what you 'see'."

Albert had expected this, no matter how she might trust him there was no way she could just bring him into the magical fold on his word alone. There had to be some sort of consequence for being tricked by some mundane human into getting a peek under the film of society. And judging from her previous unease about these 'Enforcers', the punishment really wouldn't be something light at all.

Just looking at the small innocuous hairpin, he fiddled slightly with the lily shaped broach on his collar. There were times he forgot all about it but in times like these, it made him feel a bit in awe of these 'Specter Pieces' as dubbed by the weeb before him. The ability to go completely unnoticed was something that would be desired on a weapon like a gun or knife.

"Are you sure?" He said while slipping off his white gloves," I don't know how it'll react to a Specter Piece. It might even break it or something."

"I'm sure." Despite her words, she still eyed the hairpin with a hint of longing. Fingers twitching as though she wanted to pull the object back, he got the feeling that this was important to her. Whether because it had some memories attached or because it was given to her by someone special. Like a family member or long lost friend.

He certainly hope his talent wouldn't break or damage the object in some way. Physically or magically.

And so, after taking a deep breath Albert gentle places his bare fingers on the object. And with a force of will, he activated his Psychic Talent. The world instantly narrowed down in on one thing, the bronze hairpin becoming his everything. Time meant nothing, it didn't if it was just a few seconds or a few hours. Maybe it was even years, he didn't know.

Suddenly, a line of cold rushed down his brain stem sending a series of goosebumps to follow the trail as it streamed along some unseen trail. Along his shoulders, down his arms in meandering path, before the stream hit his wrists and split off into five different currents. Smaller and gentler, the cold energy flowed into his finger tips and...lapped across the object. A series of infinitesimal small threads moved in seemingly wild formation, each tip barely grazed the bronze accessory and touch...something not entirely solid.

A deluge of emotions came slamming into his mind, most of which had a strange twinge to them. Like he had tasted something with a strange but not entirely unpleasant flavor, something that could be appreciated with time. Feelings of love and care so profound that it eclipsed anything he's every experienced in either lives. A deep sensation of lost soon followed, before it was simply engulfed with pride. Pride so great that it would've caused even the shyest of people to stand up straight and talk into a crowd of judgmental strangers without blinking. But instead of a pride that'll cause the downfall of a person, this one was different. It wasn't pride for the self, but for someone else. Like he had watched someone grow from a mere toddler into a person even he would be proud of.

Regret so heavy that it felt like a mountain had been placed on his shoulders, slammed into him with the force of jackhammer. It was old, like he had so many things left to do but couldn't because his body had failed him when he needed it the most. Regret at not being there sooner, regret at not seeing his loved ones grow up. Regret for not taking better care of his body when he was younger. Regret at not doing the same for his husband.

'Husband?!'

But before he could dive into that strange thought, another even larger emotion made everything else seem inconsequential. An overwhelming urge, no law, to protect. To spread his arms and shield his loved one under his embrace. To turn away any who would dare to strike out against them, to deflect any spiritual threats that might befall his loved one.

The single flash of an image, frozen in time, passed. It was of a head leaned on another, much smaller head.

Gasping heavily, he found himself slumped back into his chair. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to take in as much air as possible. Sweat ran down his back in deep rivulets, soaking his shirt thoroughly. The world was slightly blurry around the edges as his vision tried to reorient back in place.

That feeling of light headiness made itself known, like someone had pumped his head full of helium and he was just barely resisting just floating away in an errant breeze.

[MP: 0/9]

[HP: 19/20]

'Damn.' He wheezed and quickly dabbed at his nose, and spotted it coming up slightly bloody. 'Got unlucky there.'

This was the true danger to doing anything magical using even the much friendlier Pulp Cthulhu system. Especially for talents, because they didn't require a specific amount of MP to use and usually used a dice roll to determine, there was always a chance to use up more MP than a player had. And when that happened like all spells, their precious HP would be used as collateral to finish the magical effects. 1

Meaning, it was entirely possible to inflict fatal harm on the self by casting spells recklessly. Or in his case, be unlucky on the cost.

"Albert? Albert?" He became aware of someone shaking his shoulder, looking up he locked bleary gazes with a mere blob. "Are you alright?"

"…" He wanted to wait until his vision wasn't spinning out of place before answering but it seems like that perk wouldn't be applied to him here. "I'm fine...I think I just drained myself more than usual...that's all. Here."

And with that, he forced the pin back into her hands. With that, like a trade a cup of water was forced into his hands and he didn't hesitate. Gulping everything down with reckless abandon, it took a few moments to quench his incredibly parched throat. It gave him enough time to think back to the flood of memories that threatened to swallow him whole.

'That was a lot more intense than that stapler.. Way more. Does a strong enough attachment affect the process? Like if I were to try to read a favored paint brush, would they be that intense? Or was that the object was too strong for my current skill level?'

"...That was your grandmother's?" Albert finally said after a few minutes of thought, the emotions had blended together to create the image of an old woman in his mind. Seeing her tensing shoulders, he knew he guessed correctly.

"Yes.." Marceline fiddled with the hairpin gently, before fitting it back into her brown locks," My grandmother was the first...spirit I guided to the afterlife. I went to her funeral as a kid and couldn't understand why everyone was so upset about her supposed death when she was still there. She held my hand as I went to her coffin as they were lowering her down and just...disappeared with a smile on her face. I was left this in her will."

"Thank you." There was nothing else he could say in response to that peek into her mysterious past. She had trusted him a lot with her little test, and he was just glad that it hadn't been for naught. Just thinking of guiding someone he knew and cared about off into the afterlife...he really didn't want to think about it. How a child must've felt was beyond him.

The girl in question didn't answer verbally and only nodded before shoving the pizza box away from her.

"Let's talk about what happens now," It seems she wanted to change the subject," From what I can tell, what you just did was a form of Psychometry. The ability to read the 'memories' stored within an object, it's a pretty rare Spark. Congratulations, you know what that means?"

"What?"

"Due to how rare your Spark is, you sadly don't get the usual grace period to get yourself registered," The medium held up her hand to forestall his protests and continued," I know it's not fair. But the same thing happened to me. The Council of Seven really wants to keep track of rare Sparks like ours, whether it's to document rarely seen Sparks or to offer us specialized jobs. I've been called on plenty of times to help with...I can't say, sorry. But yeah, we're going to need to get you registered as soon as possible."

"How soon are talking about?" His head was pounding now and honestly didn't think he would be up for anything besides crashing until the sunrises in the morning. Maybe even later depending if those over the counter pain killers actually helped. He needed to sleep, and not even those scary Enforcers were enough to dispel the fog of exhaustion that settled over him.

"We can go tomorrow morning," Marceline grinned slightly," That way, I don't need to make two trips."

"Two trips?"

"Yeah," Her grin grew wider," Lin's ignited also. We planned on getting her registered tomorrow, but I guess you can tag along too."

"How magnanimous you are," He rolled his eyes," When did her Spark ignite?"

"After Marian actually."

"That was like, around two months ago?"

"Her Spark isn't all that rare so she was provided with the normal six month grace period." Marceline shrugged seeing his dejected expression. "What? Life isn't fair to begin with, if it was I would rolling around in so much cash that it would make Scrooge McDuck look like a mere pauper. And I would have a gaggle of handsome men and beautiful woman waiting on me hand and foot. And maybe a dark and handsome butler that's secretly in love with me. And maybe a few crazy sexy maids."

"Do you need me to walk you home?" He ignored her fantasy slipping through but still filed it away for future ammunition to tease her later. If his head didn't explode first.

"Nah," She picked up the pizza box and even snatched up the orange bottle for good measure," Derek's nearby so I'll be fine."

"Okay, tell him and the rest of the gang I said hi."

Albert was beyond feeling uneasy about her guards that seem to hover just out of sight a majority of the time, his only desire in that moment was crash the moment he locked up after seeing Marceline off. The day had been long, and somewhat painful.

[Psychometry: 3%]

But at least it was fruitful.

1. Here, Albert really did incredibly unlucky here, the roll required to calculate Pyschometry's MP cost is 1d6 + 4. And I used the google dice roller and got the max. So in turn, the HP lost to supplement the MP.