This DCverse is Maddening

The high pitch sound of metal striking against metal rung over the pouring rain, the ring echoing loudly in Albert’s ears. He froze in place as cold sweat dripped down his temple, it was like the world itself was laughing at him. Poking fun at his grandeur expectations only for them to fall flat on entry. All that hyping up he did felt incredibly hollow in that instant. A peacock expanding their massive plumage to scare off a blinded predator.

‘Why did I expect anything else?’

His shoulders slumped as the battle raged on, the sounds of large slugs bounces off the creatures sturdy hide and the ever dancing boots flickering through the air. The teen’s face reddened at his impotence, not daring to look in the nymph’s direction. Honestly, he felt like crawling in a hole and only coming out after all of humanity died out.

Killer Croc has always been portrayed as bullet proof in all forms he was presented. Games, movies, comic books and video games. It didn’t matter where, but he was always completely unconcerned with bullets as a whole. His scale like skin acted like armor that deflected even the highest caliber with nothing but a slight sparking.

What had Albert expected to accomplish with a peashooter in comparison when the villain was shown to deflect even Darnell’s massive shells? The giant lizard looked even less phased with his shots than the old man’s. At least it flinched when those slugs hammered into it.

But what else was he to do? He had nothing else he could do to provide aid to them, unless..

‘My phone!’

Albert felt kind of dumb as he reached for his device, pulling the outside of his coat overhead to block out of the heavy downpour. His breathe was hot in the enclosed place, fogging the screen with just a few heavy intakes of air. He was glad that, at least in this life, he didn’t require glasses. Else what needed to be done next would’ve been infinitely more annoying.

Tucking the gun in a nearby inner pocket, he ran his fingers across the blackened glass screen, each number sending out that iconic beeping that itched at the senses. In just a few moments, he could hear the slow ringing over the downpour.

His heart beat loudly in his ears as he waited on the very edge, a surging hope that threatened to engulf him. For normal people like him, the police were honestly the only thing he could actually do to most things in this world. No matter how unreliable they had shown themselves to be this week, it still wouldn’t hurt to at least call them to see if they could at least get an army of them to pummel bullets into this creature. Many peashooters would definitely be better than just one.

“You have reached the Universal Emergency Number,” It took but a moment for his surging hope to dive head first into a nearby drain,” Due to the current emergency, all available operators are currently busy and you are in a cue. If this is not a life threatening emergency, please hang up the phone and hunker down until routine police patrols make it around your area. If this is life threatening, then please stay on the phone until an operator can get you to. Thank you calling Gotham Police Department.”

Albert nearly threw his phone into a nearby puddle in a sudden all encompassing frustration at that mechanical voice. Only the price he paid made him halt in his temper tantrum. Hanging up the phone, he huffed in annoyance and reequipped his gun.

‘I should’ve known better.’

He scolded himself as the fresh rainy air slammed into him, ripping away the semblance of heat his makeshift hut afforded him.

Of course people would be calling the local police at all hours of the day, some would call to complain while others with emergencies. While others just wanted to feel like they hadn’t been abandoned by the people their tax dollars goes towards supporting. Most probably just wanted to hear another human voice, one that wasn’t prone to steal supplies from them anyway.

It was foolish for him to assume that the police would have enough resources to come their aid. And even if they did, would it really matter in the end? Eventually, both Darnell and he would run out of ammunition, Harley will eventually slip up and when that happens, Ivy assuredly pull the blonde back and flee into the night.

And plus, all of them would have to worry about getting bullets in their backs from the very same cops. Especially after they saw the massacre. They would be afraid and way too trigger happy to be of any help to them.

‘Maybe…’

Albert did have another option, one that he really, really wanted to avoid at all costs. But given their current situation, there didn’t seem to be much of a choice.

Ducking back in his makeshift hut, he took out his phone and scrolled through his admittedly short contact list.

‘Marceline...Steve…Harley...Ivy….Darnell…Jeremiah..’

Despite his eyes roaming over one particular contact again and again. His unwillingness halting his brain from fully registering the name. Growling in annoyance, the teen tapped on the contact quickly before he could somehow talk himself out of it.

One ring.

He nibble on his lips as the combat raged on, the futility of his actions clawing at his willpower.

Two rings.

‘Maybe this isn’t a good idea?’ A traitorous but logical voice said,’ Wouldn’t calling her when you’re in trouble lead to the big man suspecting you know her alter ego?’

The teen froze at that thought, lip flipping out from the hold of his teeth. He hadn’t actually thought of that possibility before. Why would he, in an emergency, call up some random girl who seemed a bit too pushy. It made no actual sense.

Three rings.

‘Barbara isn’t just Batgirl though,’ He countered,’ She’s also the future commissioner's daughte-”

“...Hello?” A drowsy voice said over the phone and caused him to forget how to speak for a moment. The silence between the two of awkward, only his ragged breathing filling the void between them. “Hello? Albert?”

“Uh,” He responded intelligently,” Yes? Yes. I’m Albert. Yes.”

“What’s going on?” She said, the sound of rustling sheets as the girl presumably sat up,” What’s that sound? I can barely hear you.”

“Uh, yes. It’s a bit of long story, but I really didn’t have anyone else who I could call. There’s a bit of an emergency here. But I think I ran into one of your escapees.”

“Why would you call me?”

“….” His tongue suddenly felt much to large for his mouth,” You’re Detective Gordon’s daughter, right? I think this requires tanks and large caliber guns.”

“….” He crossed his fingers at her silent contemplation, hoping his excuse would not tip off her hound like intuition,” What exactly is going on, I can call my dad and he can get there as fast as possible. But I need to tell him something.”

“Here’s the thing, I came across one of your escapees. I think his name is….Roland Jones?”

“Roland..?” She sounded a bit bewildered,” Do you mean Waylon Jones?”

“Is he big and scaly?”

“Yes?”

“Then yes! He’s here and the police lines were full so….”

“I’ll call my dad,” She sounded as though she was running now,” Just sit there, help will be on it’s way soon.”

Albert let out a heavy breathe of relief as he slumped against the wet car door, muscles loosening in their tension as he nearly collapsed bonelessly. He knew it wouldn’t just be the police coming here, but the man in black himself with all his little gizmos and gadgets to save the day.

“There’s something else.”

“What?”

She asked, her voice growing louder as more noise entered the receiver.

“Well,” He gulped, those dead eyes flashing past his inner eye. Their gazes accusatory and damning. “Everyone’s dead.”

“…” The silence was louder than even the rain itself,” What do you mean?”

“I don’t know how far it goes,” Now he felt like he was just rambling,” But, it’s a massacre. From one to two blocks away, I haven’t seen anyone else alive….Just please tell the cops to be prepared to see something..unpleasant. And to not jump at shadows, I don’t want to get shot by accident.”

“..You think Jones did it? How?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged,” He looks strong enough to break down walls and there’s claw marks everyone, so unless there’s someone else like that then it has to be him.”

“….” The heavy intake of air was his only response for a few moments,” I understand. Just hide somewhere and stay out of sight. Help will be on it’s way soon.”

“Thanks, I’ll certainly do just that.”

He lied easily enough. Despite wanting to just flee from this, he now couldn’t just leave his group alone to deal with the upcoming downfall this fight will spark. After seeing all the dead, people will start throwing blame in any direction that’ll stick. And with three of Gotham’s most notorious villains present at the scene, they’ll most likely get blames for everything. No matter what evidence popped up that proved Ivy and Harley innocent. No one would give a damn about any of that, they would just lock the pair up and throw away the key.

After hanging up, he zeroed back in on the fight.

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

‘Where the hell are they?!’

Albert seethed as he unceremoniously expelled empty shells all over the ground, numb fingers reaching into a now half full box of bullets. Automatically, he slid the little useless bits of death into the tumbler and slammed it closed.

The situation hadn’t improved in the slightest since getting off the phone with the red head, he was pretty sure it had gotten worse in some fashion.

Darnell’s shots had gone from a waterfall of metal to but a mere trickle, the flashes that zeroed in on his location now looked more like an occasional streak of light. If his own plummeting reserve was anything to speak of, the old man was probably running even lower of ammo than he was. And because of this, the melee had become infinitely more fierce as the distraction that those shells once provided was lessened severely.

Despite Harley seemingly peak-human endurance, she was still simply that. Human. She was beginning to flag. Her once graceful movements now looked a bit frantic, feet slipping ever once and awhile as she tried to avoid going head to head with the monster. She know only truly used her back to sneak in a few strikes here and there but other than that, the blonde was playing a true dodge tank.

And nothing had changed on Ivy’s front either, she still sat in the back with her hands hovering just inches above the ground. Unblinkingly staring at the fight, green eyes slightly glowing under the moonless sky. He couldn’t blame her though, it was nail biting even for him.

But despite their flagging resources, the giant lizard didn’t seem affected by poultry things like stamina. It was unchanging in it’s onslaught, long swooping claw strikes that tore apart nearby walls and left behind deep scarring.

It still looked as pristine as before, those scales making any effect their repeated shots might’ve inflicted.

At first, Albert kind of hoped that maybe their bullets would at least leave some internal bruising but judging from how easily the creature still moved around, that hope had died a rather tragic death.

But it wasn’t all bad news.

‘Who am I kidding?’ He gripped, flexing his fingers three times and feeling the kick back that slammed into his thin chest. No matter how hard he tried, his finger wouldn’t twitch a forth time. The sore muscles sending rippling bits of pain to combine with his sore pecks.

It seems he was restricted by the Call of Cthulhu combat system in a way that the others weren’t in the slightest. He found that for every three shots, his opponent needed to do at least one thing before he could continue. Whether that was take a step or swing one of its massive arms, it didn’t matter. If he tried to go beyond that point, only a slight spike of pain and his movements being halted would be his only response.

Honestly, it was annoying in real life. He knew that he SHOULD be able to unload an entire round into the scaly bastard no problem but simply couldn’t.

‘What happens if I’m attacked?’ The thought was insidious, slipping past his defenses and planting itself firmly in his mind,’ Would I just stand still and take it?’

Combat in both Call of Cthulhu and Pulp Cthulhu had always been insanely brutal. It didn’t matter if you were up against one giant monster or many smaller foes, someone would always, ALWAYS get fucked in some way. For humans, the number of attacks they could unleash per turn was reliant entirely on the type of weapon they were using. Handguns usually had around three, while machine guns had a lot more. And you were simply out of luck if you thought melee was a good idea.

But at least in melee, there was a chance to Dodge or Fight Back which is probably the only benefit to fighting in such a way. There was no way a normal human could Dodge a bullet.

Combine that with a player’s incredibly low health and limited ways to heal, combat was hell for everyone involved.

Those grim thoughts didn’t stop him from sending another three shots down to slam home into the side of the creature, sparks followed as they bounced off ineffectually.

Albert didn’t rage nor fall into deeper despair, he was already at rock bottom to begin with, at the clear futility his actions had but instead only reloaded in a somewhat mechanical fashion. If there was one thing he appreciated about all this, it was how smooth the action felt. He had never wielded a gun in his past life, in fact he actively avoided them no matter how easy they were to obtain.

It was all thanks to his invisible guide that was slightly nudging his movement, adjusting his fingers and carefully guiding them to where they needed to be.

His fingers scraped across the bottom of the box, the wet cardboard feeling causing his heart to freeze in place.

‘There’s no way!’

He tilted the box closer to him and saw the truth of it all. He watched in dread as those few remaining bullets rolled mockingly at the bottom, their brass reflecting his darkening expression. He hadn’t been keeping count honestly, but still to go through that many rounds but still have nothing to show for it?

It was incredibly demoralizing.

‘Four more rounds….’

Albert couldn’t keep up.

He would be more than useless if he ran out, becoming more of a hindrance in the current altercation. There had to be something else he could do. Something to alter the course of this fight into something more advantageous.

But no matter how his mind spun, nothing came to him. Plans that he so arrogantly thought could be useful now laid dead like fish on the shore. Limply lying there, lidless eyes and all. The only thing he do, besides shoot, is run away with his tail tucked between his legs.

‘Maybe I have some bullets at the bottom of my bag?’ Drumming his fingers across the metal zipper, he honestly didn’t hold much hope in that being the case. He tried his best to keep everything neat and tidy when he could, things were simply much easier to find when doing so.

Just as he prepared to slip his hand inside, he paused as a thought came to mind. The last week had almost made him forget all about one of his only trump cards in this world.

‘Maybe Resourceful could get me out of this jam?’ It was like a small stream of electricity had jump started that long dead fish known as hope, and it flapped about wildly as that realization made itself known. This entire time, his thinking process had been entirely too narrow. He was to use to solving issues in a mundane way, but this world was anything but that.

The giant lizard being the leading proof to that being the case.

With hope, the teen reach his hand inside while flicking that mental switch.

[LCK: 35/45]

He could feel those grains snap out like some sort of snake and suddenly, cold metal licked at his finger tips. The object was both both and slightly unfamiliar. It felt cylindrical in shape with slightly smooth edges, he could feel a slight lip about an inch down it’s base. Pulling it out, he finally knew exactly what it was.

Just looking at the metal cylinder nearly dropped him back into memories that felt like they were centuries ago. Before he was living like a rat from a megalomaniac crime-lord, before he searched high and low for the killer of Marian Gran. Before life had gotten that much more complicated for him. Where the only things he needed to worry about was dropping in at ‘Coffee Stains’ to pick up some garbage here and there.

Albert just hoped the old man was doing well in all this chaos.

It was nostalgic in a way, a balm to his bare psyche. But despite what the object represented, he honestly didn’t want anything to do with this accursed brew. It had really messed up him badly and subconsciously, he ‘lost’ it in his bag for weeks now.

At first he wanted to dismiss the thermos out of hand and try again with it out of the way, but then he remembered what happened when he tried using the talent multiple times.

‘It always grabs what I need the most..’

He didn’t know if the talent was aware in someway, whether it used his senses or something to determine what he needed most in any given situation but if it thought that this...brew would provide some aid then he would be foolish to ignore it.

So with unsteady hands, Albert twisted the top open and paused. The ground beans inside just lied there, innocently. As though they weren’t the gateway to his own personal hell. It honestly just looked like a pile of dirt in his opinion, only the smell dissuaded him of the idea of this being the old man’s idea of a prank.

‘Just add water, right?’

Reaching further in his bag, he pulled out a half empty bottle of water and poured it into the small thermos. Just as the liquid reached a certain point, he twisted the cap back on and shook it up violently.

The teen was just glad that he was out of anyone’s sight, else they might really believe he belongs in Arkham Asylum. Like really, who participated in a battle like this, saw the things he saw and still wanted to quench their thirst with some shitty instant coffee?

As Albert sat there hunkered down, he could still hear the battle. The heavy footsteps, the sound of breaking concrete and Harley’s grunts of exertion. Only the sparse gunshots told him that Darnell was still very much in this engagement.

After what felt like an entirety, he felt that it was more than ready to drink. But still shook it a few more times just to make absolutely sure. Breathing out, he prepared himself.

Unscrewing the top, the teen was met wild an incredibly mild scent. It stood in stark contrast to the near explosion of aromas that Jeremiah could unleash. Nothing looked off about the brew. Near black in color, with a few bubbled here and there. It swirled lazily in his grip, ripples flowing as the beast rampaged in the background.

‘Bottoms up.’

He sent out a silent toast to the creator and chugged the entire container in a series of gulps. As soon as the liquid touched his tongue, it nearly activated every instinct in him to gag. His throat closed as it tried to rebel against him, the bitterness so strong that it caused tears form at the corner of his eyes.

The taste devoured his entire world, eating away at his everything as the liquid slid down his throat. Small drops leaked out from the corner of his mouth as he chugged with all his dwindling willpower.

But he pushed through the discomfort, even through the small clumps of powder that didn’t mix all the way. Through the bitterness that stabbed at him, through the instant regret as the cold brew sat heavy in his stomach.

At first, there was nothing to show for his suffering other than the lingering taste that had made itself home on his tongue. No matter how he spluttered or spit, the taste wouldn’t go away.

But then, just a few moments later brown eyes dilated into but mere pinpricks. And in that moment, he knew he fucked. Badly.

(A/N: Bet you guys forgot about that thermos, huh? Don’t worry, I did too until I looked at the list of important items he current has. Thank you past me. But yeah, if you noticed how I changed the brew to a powder, this was the reason why. At first, I was just going to have him drink nearly month old cup of joe but then I did some research and found out that drinking coffee that old really isn’t a good idea, so I changed it to powder instead. Other than that, writing how brutal CoC and Pulp Cthulhu combat was my primary goal here. I wasn’t sure how to implement the combat system without limiting the DC characters, so I put a restriction on Albert instead. It’s brutal, I know. But I felt like it’s fitting though. Combat should something rare for him, and like in the game, should only be last resort. This is something I stand firm on, the games aren’t really built for combat. Everything points towards that simple fact. They’re both systems that focus primarily on investigation and role-play, this was something I learned when going from DnD to CoC. It took a lot dead characters and annoyed fellow players for me to learn. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and I’ll see you guys next week!)