(A/N: Warning! This chapter contains graphic content! Trigger Warning, Trigger Warning: Mentions of animal abuse! Please be advised!)
(Edited with Grammarly on 11/27/25)
The downtrodden and dilapidated buildings were so prevalent in the city known as Gotham that all of them started to blend together into a smudge. Like one continuous blotch of bleakness and decay. A depressing gray, boarded-up windows, and cracked sidewalks. It just needed that sickeningly cold rain hammering down from the sky above. Each minute, drop drilling into the old cement, making room for a new home for their brethren.
'Thank goodness for that.'Albert couldn't help but glance up at the constant ceiling of gray for even the smallest hint of rain; he just needed a hint to whip out his black umbrella he'd brought just in case. Just one of many little gadgets he had brought along. Running a hand through his jacket, he silently listed everything off. 'Knife, phone, gun, wallet, and….some salt packets.'
A standard kit, if he ever had one. For general investigation with a side of protection, just in case things got hairy. But honestly, just looking at the blonde to his side, he felt a bit overgeared.
Angeline's Spark had classified her as something the Council of Seven deemed as a 'Slayer'. The physical powerhouse of any Ignited is often tasked with hunting down rogue magical threats. Give her a sword and a couple of years, and she could have a multi-season television show centered solely on her. While she wasn't yet at the levels of Shazam, her physical prowess did edge her to the levels of Olympians at a very rapid pace. The athletes, not the gods.
For a place like Gotham, she should be enough to handle most threats. Excluding the Rogue Gallery for obvious reasons. So in a way, if anything could beat the blonde, he was screwed anyway. No bullets or anything would save him then.
Hopefully, whatever trouble that black cat was leading them to wasn't at that level.
And as though their guide could hear his thoughts, she turned her head back. Looking up at him with those large yellow eyes before yowling impatiently and darting off further ahead.
He sent a single raised brow to his blonde companion before stepping up his pace, making extra care to stay far enough out of the way of a wagging tail.
They had traveled in silence thus far, the two humans just following behind out of pure curiosity at this point. For what was there to really talk about? With all things considered, out of all of Marceline's friends, the two of them had spent the least amount of time together alone. He'd hung out with the medium plenty of times. Same with both Michael and Steve. He would consider all of them semi-close friends. But the blonde? Their first initial meeting had been pretty hostile, and she only really let up after the fact. Sure, she had said she would try, but that didn't mean that first initial step wasn't going to be the hardest.
Albert sighed internally. She had offered an olive branch at the soiree, and he'd invited her to come get into trouble with him. The least he could do was reciprocate the effort, anything to get out of this awkward air between them.
"So," He started, pretending to ignore the slight jump from the blonde. "How is everything going? With your introduction to the magical world."
"It's been going well," Angeline eyed the completely deserted block, as though looking for any who might hear. "Marcy took me to a local...club? It's where a lot of the independent Ignited come and meet. To sell stuff, check out the competition, spread rumors, and just make connections. The usual, sadly."
"Sadly? What do you mean?"
He had some inkling, but it was honestly better for her to just outright say it. No one liked a know-it-all. Especially when it came to themselves.
"It feels the same." She mulled over her words for a moment. A subconscious performative action, he could tell. "I can tell they want something from me. It's probably gotten around that I'm a Slayer, but I feel like they want to use me to get access to Marcy. Sure, they probably think getting in the good graces of someone who can crush stone with their hands early on is a lucrative attempt...but it's clear that those with my Spark aren't all that rare. It's probably up there with the most Sparks out there. I'm not complaining, though, I love knowing that I'm going to be like Van Hellsing. Love knowing magic is real! But if there's one downside, it's how my situation mirrors my mom."
"People don't really talk to me without a clear goal in mind. If I do get approached in the street or at an event, I already know what it's for. There's a business proposition they want me to pass along to my mom, or a political rival of hers wanting to use me to trip her up, or someone trying to use my connection to her to get some sort of benefit. I just kinda expected the introduction of actual magic to make things different….but enough about me, what about you?"
"Well," It was easy to understand how she must've felt right then, but that was just how the world was. No matter how sad it might be. But she clearly understood that and just wanted a chance to vent without ranting at her closer friends. At least, that's what Psychology whispered into his right ear. "I kinda got a job opportunity, you know, outside of my usual case work."
"What?!" Angeline whipped her head around, and a frustrated and confused expression morphed into place. "Who?! How?! Doing what?!"
"You remember Madame Clements?"
"…." When he said that name, that simmering fire was quickly doused by a look of abject horror across her face. And it was pretty clear what she was thinking. What other work would a madame have for him other than the obvious?
"Not that kind of work." He rolled his eyes in a very exaggerated manner, a pick tapping against the ice, like awkward tension between the two of them. "I expected that more from Marceline or Michael. But no, I read objects for the Madame. Normally, just to verify the veracity of an item. Apparently, she's very well-connected in the magical world. And since we've worked together in the past, she already had a connection to pull on. It's been going well so far, so I can't really complain."
A minor lie, but he really didn't want to bring the semi-joking mood down with that particular story. Maybe later.
"Must be nice to have a rare Spark." She looked off to the side with a self-deprecating grin, but the small embers of jealousy were so plain to see. He would have to be blind, deaf, and dense as a brick wall not to notice. But there really wasn't much for him to say. He had….no, she had no control over what Spark she ignited. It might be a simple ability, but sometimes simplicity was key. In a world full of magic, of fireballs and demon summoning, the last thing someone expected was to be punched in the face. "I'm complaining too much, sorry. It's just frustrating. But I can't say it's all bad. You know, there's a small guild of Slayers? They have a hall in a lot of cities with active bounties on a lot of strange creatures. From what I can see, the newer fliers tend to get snatched up pretty quickly, but those have been up for a year or more? Those get avoided like the plague. For instance, there's an active bounty for a 'Bear' last spotted in the Great Smoky Mountains. From what some of the older Slayers told me, a total of five different teams never came back."
Albert's lungs seized as one, eyes squinting closed as he heard the clear and obvious hook. Already more than expecting a system notification to come popping up with a reward he could not so easily refuse. It would be idiotic to go now, especially since at least five magically enhanced humans simply disappeared when they went looking for this 'Bear' creature, but in the future? Once he got his legs underneath him? Give him a few rifles and maybe some explosives, and he could show this monster the old Investigator special.
Dynamite handcars. If one wasn't enough, five to twelve should easily clear out whatever.
But to his surprise, even after waiting a solid five seconds, no new notification popped up.
"It's good that you have something like that." Feeling it was safe to unclench his fingers, he brought himself back into the conversation. "It reminds me a bit of the stories, you know, those modern supernatural ones? Got any rivals popping out of the wood-works immediately after you joined?"
Her silence spoke volumes, and turning to get a look, he saw the girl scowling quite openly.
"Wait, are you serious?" It had been a joke, not an actual prediction. "Who? What did they do?"
"It's nothing," She tried to push him aside, but the way her jaw clenched was way more honest than any words. "It's stupid. Just some asshole trying to mess with me. I'll deal with it."
'Yeah, you might have to.'
Bullies were always awful, but giving them supernatural strength and speed? That in itself was a nightmare waiting to happen.
"Well, if you need some hand-to-hand training, I know a gym." He sure hoped Ted appreciated him sending the man all these new clients. "You ever hear of Wildcat Gym? It's run by an ex-heavyweight champion by the name of Ted Grant. You should try it out."
Just as she was prepared to open her mouth to respond, their guide finally made herself known. Turning around, the black feline got down low and yowled semi-quietly before dashing into a nearby alley.
"You heard the lady."
He shrugged, and taking her unspoken advice to heart, began to lighten his footsteps. A seamless thing as they turned and followed close behind. The blonde tried, tried with everything to be stealthy. But she looked more cartoony than anything else. Tip-toeing in a highly exaggerated manner, it really did very little to actually make her any quieter. She still crunched on loose bits of pebbles and leaves, and when they actually entered the space, it did nothing but make it more obvious.
But any form of amusement he might've felt in that moment was viciously wiped from his mind as a faint stench gave him a malevolent right hook. Rot, feces, and piss. A mixture so familiar that even if he slept for a hundred years, he would still be able to easily point it out. Like the aromatic concoction was stamped permanently into the back of his mind. Sinking into every hidden crevice. The uneven brickwork stretched on for eternity from both sides, curling at the edges. As if the world had placed a magnifying glass large enough for his entire body to be in the epicenter.
There, on long rusted wheels, lay a grayish-green dumpster. It's metal so corroded that if he cut his hand on the surface, a tendinitis shot would need to be delivered as soon as possible. A logo, once printed onto the side, had long since washed away under the endless stream of time. Years like lapping waves. But despite how worn the dumpster appeared, its plastic lids looked somewhat new. As in not falling apart at the seams or hanging half off its hinges, like how it was in most abandoned parts of the city.
Before the accursed metal box stood two felines. Both looking just as scruffy as any other, they circled one another. A painfully skinny cat with a surprisingly clean coat of orange fur dug its exceptionally sharp claws into the cement as it hissed at their guide. Its large green eyes were narrowed into mere slits as they darted from the humans back to the stray, the desire to run evident.
"Oh my god!" Angeline stood beside him, clutching her nose as she entered. Face scrunching up in obvious disgust. "What in the world is that smell?"
The stray, or feral, nearly jumped a foot in the air before landing and looked ready to bolt at the mere sound of the human. Only for their yellow-eyed guide to call out in their own language, which caused them to simmer down.
He was really beginning to get a bad feeling about all this, and despite knowing how bad an idea it was, went over to the dumpster in question. His movements were watched carefully by three sets of eyes, the stench growing stronger with every step.
His gloved hand paused over one of the lids. He didn't need to do any of this. He could just leave all this behind him, turn around, and just walk out of that alley. Sure, and the only real consequences would be the system not giving him IP….but who was he kidding? This would haunt him for the rest of his days if he walked away now. Not just the knowledge that he had been a bystander like in his old life or that he'd turn his back on someone when he had the power to help, but also the morbid curiosity of it all.
Resisting the urge to take a lungful of disgusting air, he forced the lid open. Just enough for the natural light to peel back the darkness. The sight was worse than he suspected. So much worse.
If there was one bit of good news, it was the fact that it wasn't a human corpse looking back at him. That was the end of the 'good' news.
[SAN: 37/47]
In that small space, twelve small bodies lay in various levels of desiccation. All feline in a rather abstract sort of way. But visually, it was better to call them lumps of decaying flesh and mangy fur. Their eyes looked up at him, glassy and dull. Possessing none of the light that all cats seem to possess.
He didn't allow himself to look any further, couldn't without being brought back to THAT night all over again. Gently placing the lid back in place and turning, he wasn't even the least bit surprised to find himself nearly nose to nose with the blonde.
Her blue eyes were wide and teary with horror, a single, shivering hand covering her mouth.
"What the fuck, Albert?" Angeline might've asked, but it was no question, no answer sufficient for the small fragment of horror they'd been injected with. Both by the hand of their own curiosity. Breathe coming in ragged and labored, gaze spinning around randomly. Unfocused as hot tears dripped down her cheek. "What the fuck?!"
Looking at her, at her reaction to death. To mutilation. It was like a slap to his face. He should feel that same horror, he SHOULD feel tears streaming down his face, he SHOULD feel something. Anything, for that was what normal people did. What they were SUPPOSED to do.
'Then why don't I feel anything?'
In the pit of his stomach, to the back of his mind, to his heart, he only felt numb. Like the whole world had turned gray. He didn't feel angry, sad, horrified, or anything like that. Like he wasn't really there in that moment, as if he was looking down at all of them from a third-person point of view.
He knew THAT night had left its scars on his mind, deeper than whatever SAN number the system might use. Maybe that's why Harley had stuck to him so closely; it turned out she could see that fact well before he could.
"It couldn't have been an animal who'd done it." Even his voice came out robotic. Cold and unfeeling, distant like he was reading a book of the scene. Walking past the shaken girl, he began to pace. Anything to keep himself moving. Anything to keep himself distracted from exactly how broken he truly was. "Stray or feral dogs wouldn't even leave intact bones. They're the only ones big enough to cause that much damage. Leaving only humans as the cause. But if they'd done this out of desperation-fueled hunger, again they wouldn't dump this much."
The twin felines watched him, their heads turning back and forth as he paced from both sides of the alley. Their circling ceased, tails still. Closing his eyes, it was so easy to see the picture. Crystal clear.
"Blunt injuries, no stab wounds." He was going to hate how clinical he sounded, no inflection in sight. Just a flat droning that was only used to fill the silence...A lie, it would be wrong to ignore the soft sobbing in the background. "Showing signs of heavy trauma around the neck area, it's safe to say the primary cause of death was strangulation. This was personal. Not like throwing a rock or using a gun, someone who prefers to kill up and personal has something to prove."
"There is also a clear sign of escalation." His mind flipped back to the missing tail tips, each sliced off with a varying degree of precision. Even if the best-case scenario was one a day, taking the rate of decay into account, that still showed a rather steep curve. The signs were clear of what they'd been led to. The cradle of a monster in the making. "Marceline once told me you guys were into horror movies: what is expected to happen next?"
The answer was clear to him as it would be to anyone. Everyone knew the signs of a future serial killer. Bed wetting all the way up to an older age, a strange attachment to setting fires, and cruelty to animals without even a lick of remorse, just to name a few.
But just because he already knew the answer, dragging the girl out of her spiral was required for what was going to need to be done.
"They're going to find their first human target soon." Her own voice was barely above a whisper, raspy but dull. Wiping her eyes, she continued with a sniffle. "It might not be today, tomorrow, or even next month. But they're going to get there, eventually….We have to stop them before it gets to that point."
Gotham was already an awful place to be; having yet another serial killer added to the population was something the city did not need.
"Do you know where their base is?"
It was probably somewhere on this street, but if he didn't have to go looking through every building, then he would take it easily. Even if it meant speaking to a cat. Their guide looked up at them before turning her gaze to the orange feline as though to tell them to lead the way.
Through some unknown means, animal cunning or something supernatural, the previously hissing and jumpy cat darted down the alley with all of them in tow. In a run, the line of beings dashed out of that alleyway of death and despair. That dumpster, reaching out and grabbing a chunk of their humanity as they left.
"Take this." Albert dug around in his pocket before pulling out his pocket knife. It did make more sense for the enhanced human to take the melee weapon, especially if things go hairy. "Just in case."
"Just in case." She didn't even try to argue and simply snatched the weapon as they ran, clenching it tightly in her hand. That helpless horror sliding off her in waves as the reminder of what she was came to mind. And the blonde didn't hesitate to shove the item back into his. Shaking her head, a near snarl formed. "For someone like that? I don't need a weapon."
Falling into the silence, the four traveled down the street. Passing a multitude of residential and business buildings, each as abandoned as the last. Only to have their new orange guide halt before a particular structure. Standing one story tall, with a series of heavily boarded-up windows, it normally wouldn't have anything that attracted the eye. If only for a single detail. The door, which should've only had a long-since rusted lock, had a new heavy-duty, iron padlock. Chains wrapped themselves around the twin handles, locking the building completely from the front.
"Let's look around the side." The investigator pulled out his pistol at the ready, ignoring the flabbergasted look being sent his way. There was no way he was falling for this common trope, no splitting up or leaving one part completely helpless. She might have her magically enhanced strength, but he had good ol'fashion steel and fury. And without waiting, he began to slowly stalk to the side. Slipping into the dark alley only to get hit immediately by the heavy scent of bleach, as though someone had dumped an entire gallon bottle onto the ground itself.
The two felines followed quickly behind him, followed by the blonde at the rear. The space wasn't too large, and looked nearly identical to every other building in Gotham. With old and rough brickwork, the neighboring construction leans heavily to one side. Just begging for a strong enough earthquake or rumble to cause it to tumble completely down on them all.
Reaching the end, he peered around the side and only saw a few, thankfully, empty trash cans, flanking a heavy-set security door. Its bland blue paint showed obvious signs of age, massive chips exposing a long-since rusted surface. A lone light, heavily clouded but still present, hung above the entrance.
'Great,' He cursed internally, gun still at the ready. 'No handle.'
But it wouldn't make much sense for there to be a handle on the outside of a security door, now, would it? And at least there was a window back there, boarded up, it might be. Perfect for them to snea-
'Wait a minute, why would we need to sneak in?' It was clear the future serial killer wasn't present, unless they had, for some reason, locked themselves inside. But other than that, why should he care about being stealthy or respecting someone like this property? Taking some time to peer around the other side of the building and seeing nothing, he turned back around and saw their orange guide scratching frantically at the door. Her yowls are loud and keening. Stepping closer, he pressed his ear against the door. Unfurling those ethereal tendrils and allowing them to 'pierce' through the metallic door.
It was faint, barely audible, but he could hear an accompanying yowl from inside. Multiple if he had to guess.
"Angeline."
"Got it." The blonde didn't hesitate and gripped the edges of the boards, fingers fumbling to find a hold before she began to heave. Muscles bulging, veins popping along her forearm. A snarl curled at her lips as eyes narrowed into near slits. And slowly, with the sound of wood peeling away, the board was forced away with a sudden boom. Tossing the piece aside, she crouched down and picked up a decently sized rock. Probably something used to prop the door open. And with a grunt, it slammed against the window. Shattering and sending the shards clattering to the ground. Reaching a hand inside, she fumbled around before the emergency door came popping out.
Instantly causing the soft feline sounds within to become clearly audible.
Without waiting, an orange blur darted into the dim room without a single hint of concern for its own safety. Followed swiftly after by a black blur a moment later. Giving the blonde a nod, he stepped inside and was almost immediately hit with the awful scent of cat urine. Nearly choking him, the investigator ducked his nose under his shirt and continued forward.
Ambient sunlight illuminated the horrific sight before him. The room wasn't large in the slightest. Maybe the size of a locker or storage room. But even then, it was filled, from floor to ceiling, with old cages. Gratefully or not, not all of them were full. Instead, only the bottom five possessed a variety of kittens. From black to white, to orange to gray. None of them looked too old, still possessing that slightly odd look of their heads being a bit too big for their bodies.
The orange guide pawed ineffectually at one cage, filled with around three kittens who followed to suit. Their cries were loud and pleading. And without missing a beat, or even looking around for the midnight black cat in the chaos, Albert opened each one of the cages, instantly causing a near flood of kittens to go dashing between his feet and out the door without even a glance back at their savior. Even the mother and her kittens weren't immune to this, as they too dashed out of the accursed building like their lives depended on it.
Not like he could blame them. Turning every which way, a pair of yellow eyes caught his attention. Closer to the front of the building, a small wooden box was pressed into the corner. Black paws are padding at the locks ineffectually. Coming over, he quickly knelt and popped the metallic clasps.
'Trophies.' That was the first thing that came to mind when his eyes landed on the interior. Twelve taxidermied tail tips, all pure white, and neatly lined up. Each with a small note listing their date above them. His eyes shut tightly. Things had been far worse than he ever could have imagined. There was a notable gap between the first 'trophy' and the second. Almost a full month, if his math was right. But after that, the gap between dates lessened dramatically. From two weeks, one week, five days, to three, until it was almost one every other day. Whoever this was, they'd clearly grown addicted. Quickly too.
He wasn't going to explore this building. Wasn't going to go snooping in a madman's playground, nor collect any evidence or proof. His heart wasn't in it. Exhaustion, soul-deep, slammed into him all at once, but no desire to actually sleep filled him. A strange limbo.
"What are we going to do?" Angeline spoke up for the first time in what felt like a while, and only then did he realize he'd been hunched over the now sealed box without moving for….he had no idea how long.
"We wait." Albert knew this was a bad idea, a horrible idea to lie in wait for a future serial killer to return. But in that moment, he really didn't give a damn. "This is their lair; they'll have to come back. They've already set up a routine, a ritual you could call it."
Taking a seat, he slouched heavily. Gun on his knee, dull eyes glaring down the hall to the heavily locked front door. Silently, the blonde closed the emergency door before leaning up against the nearby wall. Probably taking comfort in the ambient sunlight leaking through the shattered window. As if its rays could wash away the evil that happened in that building. A weight leapt into his lap, a warm bundle circling a few times before the black feline lay its head down.
Each settling in and waiting for the confrontation to come.