(Edited with Grammarly on 2/5/2026)
Life was funny sometimes.
There were times when days just tended to flyby with enough momentum to nearly take flight, soaring above any obstacles or pitfalls, skipping past any adversaries with barely even a second glance. It made one feel invincible, high on success, and life just working out for them. People smiling more, feeding off that aura of happiness and success. Like moths to a flame, individuals from completely separate walks of life would be drawn to that beacon. Acquaintances, friends, business partners, maybe even the occasional lover.
And then, there were moments where it felt like something had hit the pause button. With days still passing by, but at a snail's pace. Inching along day to day in a gray haze. Faces blurring, mornings becoming indistinguishable, and nights filled with nothing but dreamless sleep. Blinking close one moment only to wake up instantly as the first rays of light peaked over the horizon. Each hour felt like wasted time, being forced to watch as opportunity after opportunity passed by. Feeling as if trudging through molasses, tasteless and cold, would be better than just being stuck in that frozen moment.
Bitterness was a friend then, restlessness a constant companion, and with guilt hiding behind a corner not too far away to make itself known in those lulls. And of course, the overpowering sense of helplessness looming close enough to smell.
That's...that's the state of mind Albert felt himself in. It had been a solid week of nothing, no updates, no breakthroughs, not even anything interesting. Life just became a series of routines that he could just stumble into without giving his full attention. Wake up, feed Sundae, take a few laps around the block, shower, force himself to cook breakfast, wander the streets until sundown, feed the cat again, eat dinner, and finally get into bed before getting up in the morning to do it all over again.
Sure, there were times when the occasional visit from one of his friends came by to shake things up, but as much as he wanted to enjoy their company, his mind was elsewhere. Insidious whispers follow at every step, scenarios plaguing him at all hours of the day. Leaving him not even a single moment of peace when he should've been thoroughly enjoying this simple life. Should've been relishing in the routine, in the predictability. He knew, on a logical level, that this was simply the calm before the storm. Knew that this was going to be the only reprieve for a long time until after Jacqueline reunited with her father.
Despite knowing this to be true, he still couldn't help but feel that restlessness eat at him. He'd never thought himself to be a rash person, but it truly felt like everything was coming up tails.
There hasn't been any news from Madame Clements's side, other than the brief conversations they'd had during his readings. That normally wouldn't be an issue if only his own endeavors hadn't come up empty as well.
The city was just too massive, too heavily populated, and the trail too cold for him to follow. Even going back to the school didn't turn up anything. Candice had only seen them speed away west, and even when he tried to ask nearby shops in that general direction, they'd only looked at him like he was an idiot. After all, how were they supposed to remember if a particular car zoomed past in barely a blur from half a year ago? It didn't help that those with security cameras already gone through their monthly wipes.
And when he tried to go the other route, of knocking from door to door of nearby residences, the hostility sent his way was so palpitate that there were a few times he honestly worried for his own safety. Sure, the shotgun-wielding elderly often calmed down after he explained why he was there. But he could only deal with so many instances until giving up was required. He was already lucky enough to run into the less trigger-happy segment of the general population.
So, with all physical avenues either temporarily blocked, leaning on more esoteric means was the next step. Divination had worked before, telling him when he finally found what he needed while also screaming a warning the moment danger arose. So he didn't see a reason why it shouldn't work here as well. So he tried to roam around the city while running his fingers across every doorway and entrance way he could without being too obvious, those grains of providence licking across his fingers. They danced and swirled, but not even a single speck leapt out in any one direction. Bulging to pass through doors, walls, and even people, but no matter how he tried to swing it, there wasn't even a single noticeable reaction.
And then, he had the brilliant idea to again visit the scene of the crime one final time just to test out a theory of his. Surely, his LCK would point him in the right direction if he went back to the start, right? After coming by well after nightfall, he'd placed his hands atop the pavement and tried to empty his mind. Stilling his rampaging mind and thinking of nothing but his desire to find Jacqueline and reunite her with Russel. For the small family to be brought back together. And with those altruistic thoughts and desires, he felt those grains surge out of him at an inordinate rate. Stabbing into the ground and branching out like the roots of a young sapling. Wriggling around to jab and scent the environment for even a strand to follow.
It should've worked; he should be somewhere in pulling off a daring rescue, but instead...something 'struck' him. Not physically or even spiritually, no, something large and looming reached down from the heavens and 'slapped' away his prodding. Barely striking out with any real force, at least in comparison to the gargantuan might he could feel just hiding in the background.
In one instance, he was hunched over with his hands laid flat against the asphalt, and the next, he was lying on the ground drooling. The taste of copper was heavy in his mouth, and his head felt as if someone had tried to split open his skull with a can opener.
That moment, blurry as it might've been, was his first bit of evidence that the Prince wasn't just spouting theological rhetoric. The Grand Plan, as he called it, seemed to exist in this world as well. Webs of destiny interwoven within the very fabric of reality, connecting every man, woman, child, plant, animal, or inanimate object. Something so beyond him, something that propagated an entire religious state, was stopping him from interfering. And it had chosen to do so by slapping at his own probing strands, something he knew deep within his stomach was nothing more than a courteous greeting.
It shouldn't have surprised him; he knew this world as something fantastical. Something he'd woken up every Saturday morning just to get a short twenty-two-minute look at. Spent thousands of dollars on subscriptions and physical copies of comic books, spent hours playing games set in the universe, and thoroughly enjoyed all the movies that execs kept trying to shove down his throat. No matter how terrible they were.
Maybe, on a subconscious level, Albert thought of The Grand Plan as something restricted to whatever world the Prince was from. And that he was the sole carrier of these grains of fortune. That he was special. And maybe if it existed in this world as well, it would be chalked up to plot armor. Something passive, something that his own providence should've been able to protect him from.
But it seemed he was wrong. So, so, so very wrong. There was something out there, an enigmatic force that didn't want him to find Jacqueline. And it had made itself known by pulling directly on one of his greatest boons. And that terrified him more than anything else. Like swimming freely and arrogantly in a lake only to turn around and find out he wasn't as alone as he once thought, a giant creature larger than his mind could wrap his head around just wading beneath the surface. His existence too small and insignificant to receive anything more than a simple glance before swimming past him and descending back into the depths.
Ever since that day, he'd been exceedingly careful about exactly what he used Fortunecraft on. After all, who knew when he might accidentally touch upon another taboo? And he honestly got the feeling that next time, whatever retribution he got from The Grand Plan wouldn't be nearly as 'gentle' as before. But even that small bit of cosmic dread wasn't enough to drown his restlessness. Hence, explaining his current setup.
Sitting before the same table he used to emulate entirely different worlds, of sword and magic, he had but a simple map of Gotham. The same map he'd used for a while now, its surface heavily annotated with directions, shortcuts, and landmarks to look out for. It had gone through a lot, as crumpled as it was.
And besides that, lay a rather strange combination. A long piece of string, approximately six inches in length, tied and taped tightly to the end of a red permanent marker.
All of this had come about after yet another bout of stillness, that all too familiar feeling that he was going nowhere fast, and he suddenly had a 'brilliant' idea.
'Let's hope this works.'
Albert silently prayed, sweat beating his brow as he lifted the string up high in the air. Allowing the mark tip just barely makes a single dot upon the page. Slowly, more dots formed as the twine shook under his nerves, and with an effort of will, he tried to still that rampaging heart. Tried to take in steady and even breaths, trying to will his arm to no longer shake. In one inhale, he packed all those anxious thoughts into a tight ball, and in the next, they were tossed along the path of his calming exhale.
Keeping his eyes shut tightly, he began to dig in deep. Tossing out any form of distraction that tried to plague him. Memories of pain were ruthlessly suplexed out of existence; that oh so vivid scene of carnage was jabbed over and over again until it became nothing more than white noise. Even the happier memories needed to go, the moments of cheer at this very table forced out, despite how they kicked and screamed.
Leaving his mind relatively empty, still as a calm lake. Without even a single noticeable ripple, he felt it was time. And in line with his shallow breathing, he allowed his desires unfurl.
[LCK: 35/45]
He could feel it then, feel not just his grains rubbing and bouncing against each other as they hovered just millimeters above his skin. No longer was that previously rambunctious and chaotic nature present, like trouble makers being dumped into a nicer neighborhood with no elderly in sight to put them in their place. But instead, they seemed cowed. Tamed. Thoroughly chastised to the point where they were almost sluggish to his mental command. Reluctant at even the idea of facing that impossible existence, something he could wholeheartedly understand and agree with. But there really weren't very many options left…
Not unless he wanted to throw in the towel and let Batman handle this case.
And honestly, meeting the Caped Crusader once was already more times than he ever wanted to. That bit of fanboy-ism he'd felt had quickly faded once he was on the end of that famous brooding glare. That and the man was a magnet for trouble. And a lot of the trouble the Dark Knight had wasn't squeamish at the idea of using some random teen as a point of weakness to exploit.
'Focus.'
Shaking his head free of those distracting thoughts, he focused back in. Further nudging the grains along as they hesitantly crawled up his raised arm before streaming down the string like a bit of honey. Until eventually, it covered the entirety of the implement. The string growing deathly still, like a hand had gripped its surface and held it ready.
'I NEED to know where she is.' Putting his all into the thought, the string didn't budge an inch, and he could already feel a spike of dread surging down his spine. Like a palm coming at him from the darkness, displacing the air around him as it swung his way. Even his fortune began to flinch away. Some grains, more cowardly than the rest, were already beginning to try to make a break for it. Breaking off in a steady stream as they tried to race back to 'safety'. Quickly, he began to amend his thoughts. 'I don't NEED to know exactly where she is.'
The palm slowed. Inching closer but no longer coming in at its previous breakneck speed. Good. It seemed he was on the right track.
'I NEED a direction. An area. A location.'
Quavering, he could feel the marker begin to move. It's squeaking loudly and grating against his ears. Waiting until after the marker stilled once more before cracking a single eyelid open, anticipation and relief filled him.
It seemed the Grand Plan wasn't innately hostile to him, nor was it some mindless, automatic thing. For some reason, it didn't want him to find Jacqueline. Wouldn't allow him to track the vehicle directly, nor use his LCK to just stumble into wherever she was at. No, it would never be that easy, it seemed. But that's when he began to look at things from another angle.
This entire time, he'd been rather bullheaded about all this. Understandable given what was at stake. So he had a thought.
'Why don't I widen the scope? Like, instead of trying to find her exact location, why not settle on a general area and follow up from there?'
Grinning softly, he finally looked at the paper only to freeze in place. A bright, red circle surrounded the entirety of the small island known as Gotham.
'No!' Shaking his head, he lifted the string to try again. 'It has to be a mistake, maybe I was moving too much?'
It sounded hollow even to him; nonetheless, he got back into position. Feeling those grains that had raced back into that amorphous cloud pause in place before, with hunched 'shoulders', they began to clump and collect back at his fingertips. Newer, more energized grains soon replaced them, collecting at the very tip of the marker and falling still.
[LCK: 25/45]
Just looking at about half of his LCK that just disappeared in less than a few minutes, honestly, made him begin to rethink this whole strategy. But it had to be just his hoarding instinct acting up again; this was a resource to be used. Not something to be coveted and picked over like those points wouldn't just regenerate after a short while.
Feeling them surge and that pendulum begin to wriggle in place, he let his desires be known.
'Closer.' He knew he was pushing it, but what else could he do? This was the first thing that could actually give him ready answers. So why shouldn't he push? 'I NEED something more concrete.'
Anything would do. A building, a street, a block, a neighborhood, or even a district would do! There had to be something more he could pull on.
Squeaking followed, this one taking far more time than before. Like nails on a chalkboard, he could've sworn the sound this time around was far more torturous than before. And just as he felt as if his ears would begin bleeding, the sound stopped all at once. Ending it off with the clattering of plastic across wood. Those grains, with their job done, instantly slammed back into the collective. Crashing more violently with their brethren as they dove beneath the surface to hide and recover.
'No, no, no!' Opening his eyes, the sight before him nearly made him want to begin tearing out his own hair. Inside the previous red circle, a crimson line outlined the entirety of this island. Following every divot and curve. Following the natural coastline while cutting out the bridges and any smaller islands. Picking up the makeshift divining tool, he readied himself to do yet another reading. Concerns of his dropping pool of LCK the farthest thing in mind. A need, a desire so strong that it nearly hurt, welled up from deep inside. He NEEDED to know. NEEDED to gain something of worth from this.
But just as he prepared to set the device back up, those grains, once dancing so energetically, instantly fell low. Crouching in unseen grass, like prey would do when in the presence of not a hunter but just a being so above them that only by staying stock still would they have the chance to survive. Pressing in tight against his skin, that cloud quavered. Dread prickled the back of his neck, and suddenly, every ragged breath was followed by a plume of fog. A shiver, from deep within, racked his entire body, and it took all of his self-control to stop his teeth from clattering.
Something loomed from beyond sight, massive and imposing. Ancient and all-knowing. But more importantly, obviously, very, very displeased. It had warned him twice already. Once, on the night when it first noticed him, and now. There wouldn't be a third time. That he knew. Knew on an intrinsic level that whatever consequence might follow from pushing beyond his means wouldn't be something he would want to bear.
Dropping the string like it was made in the fiery pits of hell, that feeling faded just as suddenly. And instantly, he was alone once more. Soaked in cold sweat and world rocked.
'Lesson...lesson learned.'
Now Albert could truly understand why the Prince had held the Grand Plan in such high reverence. They, too, must've had documents and accounts of people pushing beyond their means and facing the consequences of doing so.
Sitting back in, he tried to shuffle some things around to actually put together something coherent. Earth-shattering revelations aside, it wasn't all bad. First, he found out that this Grand Plan could be reasoned with to some degree. Or at least it didn't mind him getting indirect information from divination. Another tool in his kit. Secondly, and more importantly in the here and now, it turned out Russel was right all along.
Whether through some pseudo-spiritual-parental bond he shared with his daughter, he could just tell that she hadn't left the city. That she was still somewhere in Gotham. And with this recent reading, it proved, or at least alluded to the idea that the young girl hadn't been whisked off the city limit. Whether or not that would change anytime soon was another concern. But all the investigator cared about was realizing that the search radius had gone from impossible to something more manageable. Even if barely.
Through shaky fingers, he fished out his phone. Hitting away at the buttons until it began to ring. Once, twice, and thrice, it rang. Sending pangs of anxiety coursing through him. He knew it wouldn't be the end of the world if they didn't pick up, but just hearing another voice right about now would be more soothing than a week-long vacation somewhere sunny and sandy. On the fourth ring, a click could be heard.
"Hello?" The voice was familiar, sultry, and smooth. And in that moment, he couldn't help the slight flutter in his chest at hearing it. Not due to any genuine attraction on his part, that he knew, but just as a natural reaction to cling onto someone, anyone, after something nerve-inducing occurred. A near hysterical joy filled him just then, making him flap his mouth wildly, but no sound came out. "...Lovecraft? Is everything okay?"
"I-I'm fine." He somehow got out, lying clean through his teeth. With adrenaline flowing through his veins, he could tell at any moment sleep would claim him in its entirety, but for now, while this excess energy was present, it was better to begin setting things in motion. "Thank you for asking, Willow, but I'm calling to tell you to restrict the search to just Gotham. She hasn't left."
"…." There was silence on the other end of the phone, palpable confusion, and maybe some concern leaking through her voice. "I won't ask how you know she's in the city, but as I said before, even in Gotham, there have to be tens of thousands of cars I have to sift through. And this car might likely be stolen, so there might not even be an actual name attached."
"I understand." Feeling his mind cool, that desperate enthusiasm soon died as well. Willow was right; it really was just narrowing the search scope a bit. It was still going to be a massive undertaking to find one kidnapped child in this city numbering in the millions. "But I actually had another reason to call you."
"Oh?"
"How do you feel about getting the police involved?"
Pride had its place, and now wasn't the time. The police, under Gordon, would have far, far more resources to throw at this problem. Especially if that morsel of a principal was offered up, he would have no choice but to bite. Two birds, one stone. Getting that man out of power, while also sending the hounds of the law right after these kidnappers. Hounds that could forcibly go door to door and get an actual answer or force businesses to actually cooperate in a way they wouldn't do with some scrawny, street rat.
Honestly, Mrs. Gramercy felt like a better person to turn to in times like these. Albert was sure she would appreciate the gift and maybe even reward him with a fat stack of cash...but he knew better. It didn't matter if he was friends with her daughter; a politician couldn't be fully trusted. What if this principal was an avid supporter of hers? Would she really allow someone like him ruin one of her supporters? The blow-back on her would be monstrous, and her foes wouldn't hesitate to use this as an opportunity to dog-pile her. And what if instead, Bricker supported one of her rivals? Would she really so easily expose this laundry when she could just hide it in her back pocket to reveal around election times?
Besides, he really didn't want to entangle himself further with her if at all possible. In comparison, it was just simply better to have Madame Clements steer the helm this time around.
'Hopefully she doesn't prove me wrong.'
But another option did creep into his mind, a blocked contact he could at any time send this information through and have it instantly be in the lap of the Commissioner by tonight. And might even attract the eye of the Bat Family. With them on the case, they should be able to solve this quickly and quietly.
'I'll give Madame Clements a chance first.' If it didn't pan out, he wasn't prideful enough not go crawling back to the redhead for help. Even if it opened back up that door for upclose surveillance, finding Jacqueline safe and sound would be more than worth the price.