This DCverse is Maddening

Gotham has always been a pretty dower city, especially in comparison to the near utopia Metropolis seems to be with a literal god protecting the mile high sky scrappers and luscious parks. The relationship between the two were like being compared to an overachieving cousin that seems to always be brought up in conversations, no matter what was being talked of.

But today, the city seemed to make it it's business to thoroughly ruin the mood of it's denizens. Persistent rain fell from high above, the dark and roiling sky expelling sorrowful tears that hammered down into nearby potholes and make little lakes. The chilly water bounced ineffectually against umbrellas, heavy boots splashing through puddles, completely uncaring of the frigid brew that flew to dampen legs. Despite the rather rude behavior, the people just continued to march forward their minds locked onto whatever ailed them.

Whether it be bills, worry of relationships, fear of being robbed or just plain exhaustion. These troubles held their minds in a choke hold, claws refusing to let them go, the endless pursuit wearing them down into but mere shells of themselves. The very ground they trampled upon pulling at their energy in that endless whirlpool of misery that truly gave Gotham it's well deserved reputation.

Judging from the nearby storefronts with televisions playing for the general hubbub of morning life that all displayed different stations saying the same thing, it seems that infamy had only grown.

"A record sky high of crime in last month, not just in frequency but also degree-"

"Recent displays of the criminal known as 'Killer Croc' has caused multiple protests to be enacted across the country. Lawmakers are concerned as these protesters are advocating for the death penalty to be taken under the umbrella of federal law."

"The man's name is Waylon Jones, not this 'Killer Croc' nonsense! Do you not see? This thing is completely undeserving of a moniker as such! I say those little Blackgate guards do the world a favor and take it out back to finally do it in."

"A sudden wave of vigilantism has swept over Gotham, the GCPD are blaming this surge on the vigilante known as Batman. An active warrant is out for this individual's, all citizens are advised to call in any appearances he might make-"

"He's a menace! A freak trying to masquerade as someone like Superman, if he has nothing to hide then why doesn't he show his face?! I'll tell you why, he's a goddamned criminal! A wannabe 'hero' that caused the death of all those people! So I'm going on record right now, I offer a cash reward on anyone who can unmask this 'Batman' for the world to see! The moment you do, I'll give you fifty thousand dollars! And I put that on my hon-"

"The term 'vigilante' has become quite the hot topic in all spaces. Especially on the internet as the word has been looked up approximately two millions times in the last month. And from the chart, it doesn't seem to be slowing down. Multiple of youths have started to dress up in costumes and hit the streets in locations where police presence is sparse. This has even caused a sudden resurgence in the countries interest in martial arts, as dojos around the country find a sudden influx of new members all enthusiastically wishing to learn whatever skills required-"

"Police and lawmakers have stressed the point that all forms of vigilantism are illegal, but this law has been challenged by multiple different agencies as they try to either change it completely or better define what it means to be a vigilante. Their primary argument being people like Superman and Wonder Woman that have shown both restrain and capabilities to take down foes that our military have been deemed inadequate-"

"Today we have a special guest here for you, Gotham's new and upcoming vigilante that has taken the internet by storm! He routinely streams himself fighting thugs expertly with what seems like greater ease than Batman himself! I welcome, Crimson Man!"

"Thank you for having me on, Vicki. I must say TV really doesn't do your beauty justice!"

"Both a hero and a charmer? The ladies of Gotham truly don't stand a chance! I must ask Crimson Man, what has inspired you to do what you do? Is it not dangerous? Why not just have the police handle things?"

"Getting right into it? That's fine! Most people might assume I was inspired by this character known as Batman, but I'm here to tell you all that the roles are reversed! I was even the one who trained him personally!"

"Are you saying that you know who Batman is? Crimson Man! You must tell us! The world has a right to know!"

"I bet he's going to wind up dead by the end of the week."

A gruff voice said besides a gaggle of pedestrians that had remained glued to the glass as the interview went on. There stood a rather short man wearing a faded trench coat that barely scrapped across his ankles, dirty boots that looked like they had seen better days and rung out jeans that seemed to have gone through multiple harsh washes over the years. The shell of a brown tie poked out from underneath heavy jacket and dark brown leather gloves that creaked slightly with every squeeze. His wrinkled skin was turned down into consistent scowl that seemed etched on his tanned skin, a thin and scraggly mustache peppered his chin and mouth. A large nose jutted out imperially, red tinged the edges of murky green eyes and a mop of unkempt black hair completed the image.

His cheap calone, which seemed like he emptied the entire bottle, failed to hide the slightly sour scent of cheap liquor most would use to clean wounds instead of actually drink.

"Excuse me?" A nearby woman quickly covered her child's ears as they looked up wide eye at the bitter old man. The glare she scent his way was enough to nearly boil steel," Watch your fucking mouth, my kid is here."

"It's the truth." The old man shrugged, not looking phased in the slightest to the death glare that would have lesser men recoil from the intensity alone. But despite that, he didn't continue speaking and only kept the pair in the corner of his eye as the buffoon on screen practically signed his death warrant.

The woman scowled and quickly ushered her child away from awful smelling person, the kid in question stared up at the old man with wonder in his eyes. His small hands clutching the small Superman action figure as fantasies flashed behind those brown eyes.

As the pair left, the old man let out a small sigh of relief. Expelling fog as he did so. After he looked once more at his reflection in window, he continued on his way down the street. His journey didn't take long in the slightest, only stepping a few feet down before he came across his goal.

The building in question wasn't large, being only a single floor and squished in between two other businesses that seem to have been a might bit more successful and judging from the bars that covered the windows, more accepted by the community as a whole. Graffiti covered the storefront, most of which being rather exaggerated male anatomy parts and a multitude of curses written in what seem to be a multitude of languages.

Combine that with the heavy duty metal door and the little buzzer where the handle should be, it was clear that this business had faced the collective disdain of the neighborhood.

Craning his neck up, he gazed up at the neon sign that flashed in a rather crooked way. It would probably look quite pleasant if some of the letters were actually working instead of laying impotent.

'Pawn It Fast!' The sign said but only three letters light up with that bright neon hue. 'P-I-T'

Letting out another breath, the man scowled as he repeatedly pushed the buzzer with the urgency that belied his unwillingness to wait even a second longer in the cold rain.

"What?!" A voice from the buzzer snapped after god only knew how much button presses. One didn't need to know much about humans to know that they had grown annoyed. "Who the hell do you think you are to be ringing like that?! What the hell do you want?"

"Open up." The man growled, continuing to press the button a good few measures. "You're open right? Then why keep me out here in the rain? Is my money not good here? Huh?"

"…" It was silent on the other end of the buzzer, as whoever mulled over the man's words. But if they thought it would dissuade him from pressing that button, then they were sadly mistaken. "Fine just come in, just stop pressing that damned buzzer!"

"Finally some service, kids these days."

He grumbled, loud enough for the passerby to hear before the metal door popped open. Grabbing the incoming slab, a small grimace could be seen on his face as the scent of cigarette smoke almost slapped him in the face. The inside of the building looked a bit better than the outer showing, but really not by much. Walking through the shelves of miscellaneous objects that only really looked valuable, something to draw the eye and hopefully dissuade any potential robbers who got through those metal bars and door

There near the entrance way, a large counter stood resolutely built in the side of the wall about chest height. Smudged over glass separated the two occupants as the old man got closer in a rather meandering way. Picking up the occasional item before throwing it back in place as though it was deemed worthless to him. The more he did so, the other occupant grew redder and redder in the face.

The items on display truly were worthless no matter how hard they tried to present them as the opposite. A toaster that simply shinned in the overhead light but when he picked it up, the entire sleeve came off with ease. Some badly made band t-shirts from famous artists with misspelled names, diamonds that sounded as hollow as an empty chamber, necklaces that had the same texture as hard candy and even signed posters that were signed by people who were already long dead.

"Are you done?"

A snide voice called out, coming out muffled from the glass that slightly wobbled. Looking out from the corner of his eye, he took in the figure that sat had an irate expression on his face. The man wore a heavily stained wife-beater shirt that stretched over his prominent gut, slabs of flesh poking from the sides. A heavy scowl covered his round face, forehead covered in a thin film of sweat. Thin, greasy brown hair clung stubbornly to his head, benefiting those beady black eyes that would've been better to place on a toad than a human.

In a number of stubby fingers, he clutched a cigarette while in the other he held a rather racy looking magazine with a multitude of scantily clad woman in a variety of costumes that had taken the world by storm as of late. Tight spandex that emphasized particular bodily attributes and mask, some people called it the 'Vigilante Look'. If there was one thing that came out of the lock-down, it was the world's appreciation of the lesser known spandex fetishism.

"Don't rush me." The sour old man snapped back, gloved hands roaming over a few more items. They weren't spared from his casual disregard either. "I'll get to you when I get to you. I am planning to spend money here, after all. What right do you have to reject my money?"

"Whatever." He huffed, letting out another plume of smoke and picked back up the racy magazine. "Don't be stupid enough to try and steal from me, you'll only look stupid when you're trapped until the cops get off there ass to get you. Old man or not, I'll be sure to leave you some good bruises to remember me by."

"No one's going to steal from you." The old man snorted, taking the toaster with him as he walked to the counter. He ignored the flash of irritation that flashed behind those beady, toad eyes. "How much?"

"A hundred bucks."

"Bullshit."

"If you don't like the price, then you don't gotta buy it." The shopkeeper shrugged his meaty shoulders, a large yellowed smile splitting his face. Probably content with finally getting some payback against this incredibly rude customer.

"This is a hunk of junk." The old man pulled the metal sleeve off, exposing the ease of the action. It rattled in place as though it could hear the disparaging words. "It's worth like ten bucks at the most."

"That was a perfectly fine toaster." He lied as easily as breathing. "It wasn't doing that until you walked in here. I would never sell something broken, how am I suppose to know if you hadn't broken it yourself? Are you trying to scam me? Ninety."

"You know that's a load of horse shit, twenty is paying way more than this trash is worth."

"I do not sell trash and don't you forget that. I could get you for libel, I'll have you know. Plus besides, you want this 'trash' as you call it. Eighty-five."

"I don't want it anymore." Instead of continue the little song and dance, the sour man decided to flip the entire table. Throwing the negotiations away before stomping away from the counter with a huff. A flash of uncertainty passed across the toad's eyes, greedy warring with confusion in those tiny beads. He was so still that only the smell of burning paper was enough to shake him out of his stupor.

"You won't leave here until you buy something!" He quickly patted away at the smoking magazine, beady eyes glaring a hole into the only other occupant. "I'm not running no charity! And this isn't somewhere you can just browse! I got a business to run and bills to pay!"

"You want me to buy something?!" The old man snarled, scowl growing even more severe as he stalked back to the counter. Hands rummaging around in a pocket and pulling out a crumpled twenty dollar bill. Slamming it down, he snatched up the hunk of junk toaster. A smarmy grin split the shopkeeper's face at that, malicious joy present. "I'll be sure to tell everyone to never come here!"

"Enjoy your 'junk'."

With that, those stubby fingers pressed some unseen button and that same buzzing noise could be heard as fresh cool air filled the room. After sending one more harsh scowl his way, the old man stomped out of the story with a broken toaster in hand.

"Do come again!"

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

"Already in the hole on this one…"

A scowling old man could be seen crouching down in an alley way, the smell of garbage permeating with the cold rain to make a pretty gnarly combination. His head hung low as the weather seem to have made it it's business to thoroughly ruin his day, a broken toaster besides him hidden under a piece of wood to protect it from the elements.

The voice that came out of his throat didn't match his appearance in the slightest, no longer holding that persistent heavy gravel, nor did it have that slight tired edge that only someone who lived a long hard life had. Instead, it sounded youthful and fresh but still nonetheless, annoyed.

Reaching a gloved hand into his pockets, he pulled out a single moistened wipe and rubbed at his face with all the frustration present. He ignored how his face turned began to feel raw from his ministrations, ignored when the wipe had gone from a white color to a nearby brown, ignored how good it felt to actually feel the breeze for what felt like days. By the time he was done, the 'man' was replaced with a boy.

Those hard lines evaporated in that single session, skin growing a few shades lighter but that scowl was still in place.

Albert studied his own reflection in a nearby puddle, turning every which way to make sure that a majority of the product had been washed away. The remained streaks of make-up was ignored and with a flick of his wrists, the thoroughly used wipe flew into a nearby dumpster.

When first coming up with this plan, he had been enthusiastic and pretty optimistic about it all. All he needed to do was sneak into the pawn shop and look through some records before sneaking out without anyone the wiser. That part of the plan had fallen flat just by looking at the nearly impenetrable building. Maybe for someone like Robin or Batman, that pawn shop's defenses would've been mere child's play. For them, they would just need to use something from their utility belt and instantly find themselves inside. Hell, they most likely wouldn't even need to sneak about like rats to begin with.

With their resources, they could probably just buy up the entire shop and solve this case that way. Sadly, Albert didn't have a multitude of cash to throw at all his problems. Nor did he have a mentor who had lifetimes of experience to guide him.

When he had scoped out the place earlier, he knew right away that trying to break in would've been a foolish decision. There were only two entrances into the building. One to the front of the streets, while the other leaders out to a series of twisting alleys. That wasn't to say there weren't any windows, he found plenty of them. The primary primary problem being that all of them had both a sort of mesh over them, along with crisscrossed metal bars. And from his tugging, they were well taken care of.

That in itself drastically lessened the options of entry, and even fewer to actually get a good look on whatever internal security they might have. Applying for a position there was instantly out. There was no way Albert was going to just give out his personal information to people that would eventually turn into enemies on some level. Plus with his age being the way it is, they would take one look at his resume before tossing it in the garbage.

And with his dwindling funds, it left him only a single option from what he could see. Go in himself and have a good look. Of course, going in as himself would've been a foolish decision hence his recently used skills were finally capable of stretching their legs.

It had taken him a lot of time and probably more make-up than he needed, but eventually he transferred into a short grizzled old man with a sour disposition on life. There he had taken to the streets for a bit to truly immerse himself in the role, speaking to a few people here and there and overall just trying to build up the rapport of a bitter old man who had constantly received the short end of the stick in life. Things were going well at first, but then that kid must've noticed something off and wouldn't stop staring.

No matter which way he looked in the reflection then, he couldn't figure out what about his disguise tipped the child off and so he really leaned into his role and scared them off with a few crude words. Despite scaring them off that sliver of uncertainty had been driven home, and had greatly accelerated his time table. Having no idea when the kid would finally speak up and ruin his disguise.

The shop keeper, Rueben, had been exactly as he had imagined. Crass, greedy, unpleasant and most of all, slimy as an eel during mating season. Okay, maybe most of that was his own fault but to his own defense, it was the role he needed to play.

Pulling out a small notebook and a pencil, he flipped a few pages until that familiar unfinished sketch made itself known. It was a hastily done outline of an overhead view of the building in question, marking all the entrances and windows that could be spotted. And now he took the time to thoroughly fill in as much information into the drawing as possible, taking extra care to jot down the bullet proof glass that separated the back to the front of the store. After the sketch no looked as depressing as before, a sizzling ball of coal sunk into his stomach.

'That's not good.'

Just from the information he could gleam from his visit, trying to sneak in through the front was an absolute no-go. Not just because of the mechanically locked door that completely lacked a handle on both sides but also due to the glass barrier that separated him from the backrooms. Rueben had already shown his willingness to lock whoever was in the front inside and would most likely just enjoy the show as they try to scurry around like bugs trapped under a magnifying glass. That willingness only truly meant one thing.

'Nothing in the front is valuable.' It had been rather strange for the displayed objects to be so uniformly..useless. But after seeing that big red button that the man seemed so eager to press, it now made a lot more sense. 'It's kind-of smart… Nothing from what I could see there cost more than a couple dollars at most, so having it damaged due to some rampaging attempted thief or burglar would be more than worth the price.'

Marking down a single object, he thought back to the handle-less door that laid flushed against the wall and the paired door that lead to the back. Another useless door for his purposes. He would be scrabbling against the flat metal plane like an incessant cat that hadn't made it's mind up on being an outdoor or inside feline. Ineffectual and slightly annoying.

Flipping through his small notebook, another plan was struck out of existence. Leaving just a few survivors.

'Sneak in through the back.'

Not the worst plan and it honestly had the best chances of success given his certain set of skills, all he would need to do here was wait until Rueben, or whoever was closing up that night, and sneak in through the back. Having complete free reign over the back room. The primary problem with this plan being those particular set of his skills he was so proud of before. Stealth, being the most important skill there, wasn't that high of a level where he could rely on it solely. He would need to scope out the place for a good couple of days just to get a good idea on whatever work schedule was in place, to carefully jot down all the workers and possibly even investigate them as well.

Meaning, the primary stop gap here being time. It would take at-least a week to thoroughly stalk this business, and that in itself opened up chances for error. What if he was caught skulking about? Or if there was an employee who was on vacation? Or maybe a new hire learning the ropes? Or what if he accidentally stayed out to late and get accosted by some local thugs? The list of what-ifs went on and on, only growing darker as the whirlpool dragged his mind deeper into that inky mire.

Not only that, this particular case was on a bit of a clock to begin with. Bethany needed to pay this week or Rueben would possibly sell her watch without blinking his eye, if he still possessed the item that is. So waiting an entire week before pushing through with his plan wasn't ideal, else he would need to possibly start stalking some unlucky schmuck.

So putting that plan aside, the next option slid into sight.

'Just buy the watch outright.'

He had money, not a lot but more than enough to just walk in the store and buy the watch if she missed her payments. Despite this seeming like a simple plan, his visit to the pawn shop in question had made this the most undesirable of all his plans. One being the fact that he really didn't want to feed that man's coffers and even giving away that twenty before was already enough for bile to roil up in his throat. Paying a couple hundred to a full thousand would probably assuredly drop him in a coma afterwards. And that's if the man didn't try to pull out of his tricks, like switching the watches mid purchase with something much cheaper or something equally as slimy. He seemed like the kind of person to do exactly that.

And plus besides, Albert couldn't afford to go that far in the hole on a single case when he had no idea when the next case would fall in his lap. It could be days, weeks over, god forbid, months. Living off of cup noodles really didn't sound appealing in the slightest, not in his previous life nor in this one.

The next plan had some similar elements to previous one, but possibly would result in rather disastrous results.

'Bribe an employee.'

This particular scheme had it's own problems that itself readily apparent. The primary being that it combined the issues of both of the remaining plans; time and money. As before, taking a week to properly investigate every employee wasn't ideal and spending a large chunk of money also wasn't ideal. Not only that but, besides Psychology, he had no other skills that could assist him with navigating the extremely precarious conversation with offering a bribe in mind. Skills like Persuade, Charm or even Intimidate would be better suited for such a task. And he had no experience with such a shady conversation to draw upon either, so the likelihood of him bubbling it up and getting double crossed was high.

All this meant was this, there was only a single option that would both allow him to use the skill set he was somewhat confident in and inline with the ever closing time frame. He would just have to be willing to take on a few extra risks that ran in opposition with his previous careful approach.

Sighing, defeated, Albert slipped the notebook back in place picked up the nearly forgotten toaster and walked out of the alley. The heavy, dark clouds roiling across the sky like a mirror of his worsening thoughts.