This DCverse is Maddening

Streams of flickering blue light fought back the nearly clawing darkness that stuck to every surface like glue, every subconscious twitch of the massive man affected this eternal battle for supremacy. A series of soft footsteps could heard, the distance between were uniform and elegant in a way that showcased decades of practice.

“Master Bruce.”

A dignified man greeted, his thin frame suited in pristine butler attire. His face was stuck in that congenial mask that made it difficult for people to tell if he was either insulting them or just showing deference. Not even a single hair was out of place, and he seemed freshly groomed.

The butler stood off to one side of a man who looked more like a bum than the billionaire playboy the public knew him as, the only thing hold back his sigh of admonishment was the empty tray off to the side. Not even a scrap of meat left on the bones.

“Alfred.”

The man said, his face covered in a thick patch of wild facial hair. Bloodshot blue eyes, lined in near blackened bags, practically glared a hole into the series of screens before him. That damned chair had become his new home over the last couple of weeks. He ate there, slept there but thank whatever god was up there that he didn’t relieve himself there.

Alfred would not be a happy butler being forced to clean up excrement of a grown man, cleaning a teenager’s ‘crusty’ socks were bad enough. No matter how ‘sneaky’ or ‘slick’ the teen thought he was being.

“I must sound like a broken record,” The old man began, taking the empty tray and replacing it will a platter filled with eggs, sausage and a large cup of coffee. It’s rich sent tickled at his thinly mustached face,” But don’t you believe taking a break will do you some good? At least long enough to take a bath, shave and properly sleep?”

“Last time I did that, over forty people died.”

Despite the words he spoke, the words didn’t coming across as biting or accusatory. They sounded haunted beyond imagine, and it ate at the butler’s heart to see his..son beating himself up over this. But he knew the man well enough to know that any assurances on his part would only come across as hollow and insincere.

The Neighborhood Massacre. That’s the what news outlets and citizens called it. The night in which Waylon Jones, or now known as Killer Croc, began his feast upon the hapless denizens. By the time either the police or Batman came to provide aid, it was already much too late. It didn’t matter the culprit was already incapacitated in a stupor, the lives lost were something the city still mourned. Forty people weren’t a lot of people in the grand schemes of things, especially not in Gotham.

But the way they lost their lives had been what shaken a lot of people up.

Alfred had seen a lot of battlefields and intimately knew the look in the eyes of soldier who had seen too much. They all had this listless look to them, more shambled about in life.

That was the look each of the three heroes had as they came back from their grim task, that wasn’t something anyone should ever see. So instead of responding to the man’s words, he only squeezed his large shoulder in silent support. This was he could do his son, words would be wasted, actions wouldn’t.

It had been over three weeks since that incident and the trio of crime fight had grown slightly listless. Alfred missed the days were the mansion was actually filled with noise. Whether it was Bruce and his frequent flings, their laughter and giggling reverberating through the halls. Or even when Dick broke something had tried everything in his power to fix it, no matter the larger he made in turn. Hell, even the quite page flipping from Barbara a she perused through their near endless library was normally enough to not make the home seem so empty.

But now? It was like the manor had been abandoned by it’s master once more, reminding him distinctly to those twelve years that Bruce traveled the world. The silence back then was different. It wasn’t this somber nor suffocating as though there were a couple of coffins just downstairs.

‘What can an old man like me do?’

Keep doing what he’s been doing, that’s all the comfort he could give these proud people. None of them would ever admit to needing aid, he knew that. They might be trying to force down what they saw that night, but eventually they would breakdown. He just had made sure to be there to offer them a shoulder to cry on.

‘Especially Dick and Barbara..’ He thought sadly,’ Their children, they shouldn’t have seen that.’

The pair sat in relative silence, only the light hum of the heavy fans whirling endless in the background. Alfred didn’t know if he stood their for ten minutes or ten hours, but the quite was shaken up by the next words.

“Alfred.”

“Yes Master Bruce?”

“Tell me what you see.” The muscular man brought up a single photo that took up all the multitude of screens, as though they were all connected. He didn’t understand it, all this new technology made him feel like a fossil a lot of the time. Back in his day, people actually wrote to each other and had physical maps.

Despite that, the butler leaned forward to truly take in the image. From what he could tell, it was some kind of medical examination. On the a metal table, a monster was strapped in metal cuffs locking down it’s ankles and wrists.

There lied a creature covered from head to toe in rough looking skin that reminded him distinctly of scale. It had a long torso, even more so considering it’s massive size. Even longer arms that near touch it’s knees, and finally it’s mouth had a muzzled locked in place.

But those eyes…

Those lifeless yellow eyes didn’t seem like they belonged on a creature that loosely resembled a human. Combine that the creature was so skinny that it looked like it was made up of only skin and bone, the appearance gave off a distinctly ghastly aura.

“…” Just looking at the photo made him want to fiddle with his wooded bead rosary,” I’m assuming this is Waylon Jones?”

He only got a grunt in reply and normally, he would’ve scolded the man for not using his voice like a normal person but the current situation proceeded everything else. He would just make sure to slip in a thesaurus in with the man’s next meal, or make some alphabet soup.

Either should do the job.

“It’s clear that he mutated in some way.” The butler rubbed at his thin mustache in thought, inching forward to take in everything under a critical eye. An eye that had seen more dead than most people in a couple mile radius. His years of experience practically dissecting the medical report to it’s simplest details,” Multiple abrasions primarily focusing on the ribs and given their angle, I can guess that whoever hit him was both significantly shorter than him and strong enough to do damage. Or maybe his mutation halted his natural regeneration? Or maybe it did more and lessened his durability?”

“Here.” A white gloved hand jabbed into a nearby screen, tapping on the creature’s side,” You can see some internal bleeding and if my guess is right, a bruised kidney. But that’s only a normal human, I don’t know what kind of structural changes his mutation might’ve caused….Also look here, it says that his stomach as burst in some places. Causing some stomach acid to leak out, that certainly can’t be good. But other than that, lungs look good, vocal cords are slightly strained and there seem to be some irregularities in his skeletal structure. They’re thicker, much thicker. Like someone pumped him full of IGF-1. Combine that with these more compressed muscle strands, I would say his ceiling for strength growth has skyrocketed. Hmmm…”

“But what’s this..?” The old man got closer to the screen, nearly touching the screen with his nose,” A bullet shard? Right there, lodged right into ribs nine. It’s new, you can tell by the fact the bone has begun to inflame. Slight swelling here and here. Master Bruce, it must be my age catching up to my but I could’ve swore Waylon Jones was bullet proof?”

“Turns out, he’s only bullet resistant.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. We’ve seen him shrug off multiple high caliber bullets with ease, judging from the shard I can tell it was a 9mm. That isn’t something powerful enough to punch through his skin.”

“...What else?”

“Besides that,” It seems Bruce just wanted a sounding board and not an actual conversation, but he would take the opening. Anything to keep him talking,” You must forgive me Master Bruce, I specialize in the human body, not whatever Waylon Jones has turned into. I believe you would have better luck with Saurologist or a Reptile Veterinarian. I don’t know if those chemical levels are normal or not.”

“…..” The man didn’t reply at first, only leaned more heavily into his cupped fingers,” Thank you Alfred.”

“Of course Master Bruce.” Alfred fixed the slight wrinkles on his pristine suit,” If that will be all, I will go check on Young Master Dick and Miss Gordon.”

‘You should too.’

Were unspoken words but he knew Bruce could read between the lines. He was those two kid’s mentor and as a mentor, it was his responsibility to at least check up on them after such a traumatic experience. Whether or not he blamed himself for their trauma, it didn’t matter. Those kids needed to be reassured of their path, else they’ll second guess their mission and stray.

“Please take better care of yourself Master Bruce.”

He left the brooding man after that final sentence, his freshly shinned shoes striking the stone with crisps steps. As the butler faded off into the distance, he sat stock still. Straining his ears to the best of his ability to until that familiar clicking noise could be heard.

After making sure, Bruce taped a single button and instantly one of the screens was taken up with a single message along with a photo.

His blue eyes, tired and dull roamed over the text and locked onto the image of a familiar looking girl, a stark contrast to her previous fearful state, along with her mother. They both posed with a large black haired man wearing that iconic red and blue costume with a billowing red cap that encompassed the pair. A stylized ‘S’ stretched across his wide chest.

‘Don’t worry, Bruce. I got them.’

It warmed him stony heart just seeing the trio smiling so brightly, like a balm to an aching boil. He even spotted a small smile in a nearby reflection, raising his gloved hand, he felt at the upturned lips. Taking in a few steadying breathes, he allowed the hand to fall back in place.

After storing the image, his attention was dragged back to the flickering screens. Azure eyes burned with new found solve, a knight dawning their heavy armor. The weight of their duty only matched by their conviction. The Dark Knight would not break, he would fight tooth and nail to make sure images like those could be taken in the future. No matter the hooks that stripped away at his sense of self, no matter the sleepless night and no matter how loudly the damned threw accusatory glares from beyond the grave.

For he is, The Batman.

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

Albert let out a sigh of relief as he stretched the best he would while wearing a sling over his right shoulder. He ignored the slight bits of pain that motion caused, cursing his incredibly bad luck.

“Why’d it have to be my right shoulder?”

It had made moving in quite the chore.

Looking around, he took in his environment. Feeling a bit of pride well up inside him as he did so. This was the first thing he actually owned in this new world, truly his in fact. It would require some work but nonetheless, the building looked beautiful to him.

The room wasn’t large nor did it look lived in, only a pile of debris was off to the side that he had spent the last few hours hauling in one place. Only a singular chair and desk had been deemed worthwhile keeping, everything else had been too destroyed for him to keep. Large metal shutters covered the shattered windows, and a few overhead lights flickered with a gentle buzz.

Walking down the small hallway, he passed an open bathroom door and even a break room with a full kitchen. The oven was old, but usable. A single door fridge was pressed against the corner and a variety of cabinets laid open. The harsh scent of cleaning supplies tickled at his nose. Pass that, he opened a single door and came out to the other-side, spotting an enclosed cement backyard lined in a tall brick wall. The area wasn’t large, maybe about ten of his strides from one end to another. At the entrance, a locked metal gate led out into the nearby alleyway. He noticed a near pile of discarded cigarette butts lining the building’s edge.

‘Must’ve been the smoker’s break area.’ Albert mused,’ Maybe I can use it for something?’

He quickly ducked his head back into the building and locked the door, this was still Gotham after all. That and the ambient sour, garbage smell wasn’t something pleasant. How people could go out there multiple times a day just to smoke was beyond his understanding.

Turning, the teen walked up a set of incredibly steep stair. Gripping the rail tightly for support until he reached the next floor. He passed a few windows that gave him an excellent view of the neighboring building’s rough brickwork. Coming across 3 more doors, he opened the first one.

The room seem to be another office, maybe reserved for the head honcho or manager to mess around in. Gratefully, everything there wasn’t nearly as calamitous as it was downstairs. There was a large desk with a series of windows behind it, overlooking the destroyed street below. A few empty filing cabinets were off to the side and a single bulletin board was placed on the opposing wall.

Moving on, he walked further down the hall and poked his head into the next room. Seeing a small bathroom with a stand in shower, toilet and sink. Everything a person needed to stay groomed and presentable. Just looking at the room made his skin itched all over again, he did try to bathe at every chance he got. But the last few motels had seriously skimped on the hot water and he was feeling a bit desperate for a long, steaming shower to wash the stress away.

‘Hopefully the water pressure isn’t awful.’ If it was, that was going to be yet another drain on his rapidly dwindling finances,’ I’ll check it out later.’

After dragging his longing gaze away from the shower, he continued his path down the hall. On the last room, Albert swung the door in. He spotted an old mattress devoid of any sheets and it even had a few mysterious stains on the surface.

‘Definitely tossing that out.’

He didn’t even want to imagine why there was a seedy bed next door to the manager’s office, such thoughts wouldn’t go anywhere good. He would just have to make sure to thoroughly clean the room will sorts of skin peeling chemicals to erase even the shadow of what this place represented. But other than that, there was wooden dresser pushed against the wall, a few curtains thin enough to let in the setting sun and even a wide open empty closet. And an old radiator was a good distance away from the soiled bed.

It would certainly take awhile for him to consider this place home, but it would happen eventually. One way or another. Albert could already practically visualize the changes he would need to enact to make that a reality, leaning heavily on the door-frame.

‘Toss out the bed, the floor is wooden so I don’t need to worry about ripping up the carpet. Change the curtains to something thicker. The office should be fine, just need to get rid of all that paper and anything else the previous owner left me...should I keep the chair?’

‘...If I have to ask, it’s probably a yes. The walls could do with a fresh layer of paint. And it’ll probably be good to get an exterminator just in case there’s bugs or rats-’

A series of knocks, hard enough to rattle the door echoed from below. It was so abrupt that it shook him out of his thoughts and nearly caused him to slip. Cursing, he turned and trudged down the steep stairs. Feeling that sense of vertigo hit him as he did so.

“Just a minute!”

The teen shouted to give himself some time to crawl down the slope at a snails pace, but despite his wishes that hadn’t abated the knocking. In fact, it only caused the knocking to grow in volume and intensity, they were even cheeky enough to start preforming a beat using his door as an instrument.

As his long journey, he trudged over to the rattling door that looked as though it was holding on for all it was worth and just before opening the door, he palmed his gun. Despite knowing the weapon was nothing more than a paper weight now, it still brought him some degree of safety. No matter how illusory that feeling might be.

“Who is it!”

Albert tried to make his voice as deep as possible, as a method to hide his actual age. He didn’t wish to be deemed an easy target because of his age but judging from the muffled giggles, his craft needed some extra work. A lot of it if the near hysterical cackling that was slowly growing in intensity.

“Who is it?” Someone muffled on the other side of the door, their tone mocking as they mimicked his poor attempt. “C’mon! You know who it is! Open the door or I’m going to break it down!”

Honestly after being so thoroughly mocked, he wanted to actually take them up on their offer. His eyes flickered over the metal lined frame and knew it should last a bit longer, if someone did try to break in, it would take them awhile to do so. And they would be at least winded by the end of it.

But no matter how petty he felt like being, his door was innocent in all this. Plus besides, fixing this place up was already going to take even more money, there’s no point in increasing his expected spending.

“Just a moment.”

He sighed and undid the lock, opening the door to his unexpected guests. Before him stood two women of relatively similar height, but besides that the pair couldn’t have been more different. One of the woman looked more like the mythical depictions of nymphs; light green skin the color, and red hair tied up in a loose ponytail that seemed just on the edge to ignite. Her forest green eyes twinkled with amusement and plump lips curled in a small smile.

And besides her, a blonde woman with red and blue high lighted ends stood near doubled over in hysterical laughter. She was a pale thing, almost having the same complexion of paper and her bright blues eyes were nearly sealed shut as tears leak out of them. A large smile almost split her face in half as she did so.

Albert knew if she wasn’t holding that near bulging paper bags, the blond would’ve been rolling on the ground. Deciding to ignore the jokester, he turned to the red head and nodded,” Pamela.”

“Albert.”

Ivy nodded in kind, that small smile growing just a small margin at the scene.

“Hey!” Harley near squawked like a bird, shrugging her shoulders to emphasize her current armload,” Move outta the way! You blind or something?! This is heavy!”

“Yeah yeah.” He opened the door wider and let the pair in, feeling a bit embarrassed. His old parent’s had had always told him to make his home was clean and presentable before having guess over. It didn’t matter who they were. Playmates, friends, plumbers, maintenance people, landlord. The teen had tried his best to spruce up the room but given his arm, nothing major had been accomplished.

“This place is a dump!” If he thought the blonde would be polite and keep her thoughts to herself, his hopes were dashed the moment she got a look,” You gotta kitchen...Or maybe just a hole in the ground somewhere? I can make that work too!”

“Why are you even here?”

He grumbled, closing and locking the door behind the pair as they picked over the orderly chaos.

“What?!” Harley stuck out a hip, a false scowl on her face,” You complaining? I know plenty of guys who give up their favorite nut to have not one, but TWO beautiful woman show up on their doorstep! And one’s even brought you a home cooked meal! Kid’s these days… Now where’s that oven?”

“Our oven’s broken.”

Ivy said as way to explain, laying claim to the one of the only relatively undamaged office chairs. Her gaze roaming across every poster on the wall with an edge of interest.

“In the back, just go down that hall and turn right.”

Albert didn’t feel like arguing with the blonde and just decided to let this play out. The building was insured, so if she burnt it down nothing of value would be lost. Harley looked hard at the teen’s face, her face scrunched in obvious suspicion.

“I feel like you thought of something very rude.” She puffed out her chest,” You think I can’t cook?! I’ve have you know that I once turned a few cans of spam into a full course meal! Tell this nonbeliever Red of my greatness! I’ll be back, I think that’s the ice cream I’m feeling.”

And with that, the blonde marched down the hall. It wasn’t much longer he heard those heavy combat boots paused in their stomping,” Is it your right, or my right?”

“Your right.”

“I know I am!” Harley’s cackles were long and loud as her figure disappeared into the makeshift kitchen, leaving him alone with the red head.

‘How did I fall for that?’ Albert was a bit bewildered,’ It’s not even the right, ‘your’!’

He could only chalk it up to him being tired and left it at that. Plus besides, their near daily tabletop sessions had taught him that it didn’t matter how careful he was, she would always get one in.

“How’s Darnell?”

He asked, taking another office chair and falling heavily into it. Feeling a bit glad he hadn’t gotten to actually throwing anything out yet. Else they would all be sitting on the ground. They could push some nearby tables together and make a sort of dinning area.

“He’s doing fine,” She replied her eyes still roaming over the room,” He’s been dealing with a lot lately, the landlady died during everything and left him the building. Lot’s of paperwork.”

“I can imagine.”

The teen nodded sagely, not really questioning why the old man was left an entire building. Maybe the two were related or entwined in some fashion. Either way, he wouldn’t pry no matter how much his curiosity niggled at him. Everyone was entitled to their own secrets after all.

And he could also sympathize. The amount of hoops he had to jump through just to get his greedy mitts on this building was almost enough for him to just turn to a life of crime. Having to spend multiple days in that bureaucratic nightmare was hell on Earth. That place tried to suck him dry of both energy and money, when that clerk had finally had mercy on his soul and stamped the papers he had fled that hell hole without any desire to even take a glance back.

‘How bad must’ve it had been for him?’

A shiver up his spine told him all he needed to know.

“How’s the arm?”

Ivy asked suddenly, her tone clinical.

“It’s fine.” He glanced down at the black sling with a sigh,” They say it should heal in a couple weeks, just have to keep this on until then.”

He couldn’t believe how stupid his injury truly was, despite fighting a giant of a monster. He hadn’t been injured by the creature, nor the ensuing melee. No his dumb-ass injured himself. It had been mighty embarrassing after coming to that day on the cold cement ground and having the realization hit him like a freight train. Along with a massive headache and throat that felt as though he had gargled sand.

The pair fell into relative silence after she nodded in response. This was the general problem with two introverts being left alone by their more extroverted friend but Albert didn’t fret in not knowing what to say. The pause wasn’t something awkward or anything, it was somewhat companionable. He was pretty sure the red head could’ve spent all day without uttering word and would be completely fine with it.

“Oh yeah, we’re going to have to cut down on game nights to once or twice a week.” He said, trying and failing to hide the relief in his voice. The teen had honestly regretted introducing, or re-introducing, table top games to them. Despite Harley being the most vocal out of the pair, Ivy was the primary one pushing to play almost everyday. That’s how he got stuck playing for hours everyday with the two, having to skulk around Gotham after dark was never fun.

“That’s too bad.” She hummed in thought and just as his hopes were rising, they were quickly dashed by an addict of his own making,” I guess we can increase the times then. How about going from four hours to six? Two to three times per week?”

“….Let’s meet in the middle and make it twice a week, four hours should be fine as long as no one’s busy.”

“Five.”

“...Twice a week, five hours per. But we’ll have to alternate whose running each game.”

He didn’t want to be stuck coming up with ten hour sessions every single week, five was already going to be stretching him pretty thin already.

“Did someone say game?!” Like they had called the devil herself, Harley dived headfirst into the conversation with no warning. How she stomp around in one breathe and sneaked in the next, the world would never know.

“It’s done already?”

Ivy quirked a brow, probably the closet she’ll ever get to perking up. And Albert couldn’t blame her, he had been stuck here all day doing whatever work he could manage and no matter how meager his progress it had still drummed up a massive appetite. He probably would’ve eaten out somewhere if the pair hadn’t shown up when they did.

‘...And most likely I would’ve been missing a door if I had left earlier.’

“No,” Harley, in a rare instances, huffed at the nymph. Her Brooklyn accent coming out thicker in that moment,” It’s gonna take some time, that’s a five pound brisket in there. Maybe four and half hours give or take.”

“Oh.”

Ivy and Albert said in unison, their eyes looking longingly at the kitchen as though to speed up the process. The teen’s stomach had suddenly grown ravenous after the mention of brisket, he didn’t know if he could withstand waiting that long for food. Especially not if it was going make everything smell good soon.

“While we wait,” Harley rolled up her up imaginary sleeves, and struck a pose,” We can fix this dump up. Weren’t you taught to keep your home tidy when you have guests over? I could never!”

“..I’ve never seen you a broom for it’s intended purpose since knowing you.”

As the pair’s bickering began to fade out into the background, Albert felt an incredibly warm feeling bloom in his chest. He had spent a majority of his old life alone and even longer than that dead, if this was what normal people felt then he truly felt bad for his old self.

This world might be fraught with danger, but if there were moments like this destined in his future then maybe his dislocated arm was worth it. More than worth it, he felt.

“Earth to Al?!” A pale hand waved in-front of his face, dragging him out of that state,” I said we’ll help, not do it all ourselves! We’re too young to be mother’s! You can pick up some light stuff or something. Do you gotta name?”

“..For?”

He was a bit confused at what she was getting at, his mind still partially lost in that warm feeling to fully understand what she meant for a moment.

“Yes,” Harley rolled her eyes,” You didn’t buy some seedy office building just to live in, right? I remember you saying you wanted to start a detective agency? This is it, right? It gotta have a name! What are you going to do if you solve some big case and someone asks for your card? Rummage around before handing them a phone number? That’ll be shady as hell! I wouldn’t trust a place without a name! That way, I can find them easily if they try to cheat me! A few busted knee caps should do just fine!”

Besides the terrifying image that final sentence instilled, Albert had to admit the woman was right and judging from Ivy’s bobbing head, she agreed too. His mind raced as he tried to come up with an adequate name, something that’ll pump life into his building. It had to be something witty and flow off the tongue with ease. Doing so would make it easier for people to remember..but did he want that?

‘A well known snoop, is a dead snoop.’

By proceeding with his current plans, he would acquire some relative fame. Meaning the chances of people recognizing him while he was working on a case would increase. He might even be seen as a good scoop source for some down on their luck reporter. It would make blending in and fading out into the background infinitely harder.

If he could mitigate that by even a small mile by name it something innocuous, then it would be more than worth it.

“What about ‘Private Bye’?” Harley probably thought she was being helpful, but judging from the twinkle in the blue eyes, knew she wasn’t,” Or, or! Snoopers! Oh! Or even better ‘Mystery Inc’!”

“What about ‘Private I Spy’?”

It seems Ivy decided to join in on the fun.

“‘ICU-PI’”

“What about ‘Shadow Seekers’?”

“That’s so edgy!” The blonde gasped before breaking out into a wide grin,” I like it! ‘Crime Divers’”

“Hmmm.” Pamela began,” ‘The Hidden Hand’?”

“‘Veil of Secrets’?”

“‘Cryptic Findings’?”

“‘Whispering Winds’?”

“‘Mystery Bound’?”

Albert got the message and zoned the two out as they continued their fun, neither of them would be of any help here. Well, other than listing names he would absolutely not be choosing even on pain of death. And pulled in deep on himself.

He was never good at this, naming things in general. Even in games, whenever an option open up for him to name something he just kinda gave it the default name without a second thought. But given the grim image the upstairs gave, he didn’t want his business to have any association with the previous owner’s...practices.

The young private eye didn’t want some vengeful ex-employee to mistakenly to their anger out on him when he least expected it, so keeping the building’s name was a no go. The sign outside would have to go no matter what. That didn’t leave him a lot of options but to cobble together some decent sounding name before it got stuck with whatever title the pair came up with.

‘Detective, Private Investigator, Seeker…’ It was like he was hit by lightning, that final words striking a cord with his very being. He was a Seeker. Picked it himself. So why couldn’t he go with something along those lines?

‘Seeker Inc?’

‘Seek the Truth?’

‘Seeker of Truth?’

‘Unveiled Truths?’

All the names sounded wrong to him, they just felt ‘wrong’ and ‘hollow’ in a way it was difficult to describe. It would feel unjust to give his business a name that didn’t fit perfectly. He was, essentially a Pulp Cthulhu character, in the world of DC comics with a large amount of insider knowledge. He had lived in a world of observers who could see omnisciently into this spanning multiverse.

They had watched on as this world struggled, died, lost, and inevitably triumph.

“The Seeking Eye Agency.”

Albert liked the name and felt it truly his circumstances. It combined both his archetype and alluded to his past life in some obscure way. And from the sudden notification that took up his entire vision, the system seemed to agree with him.

[Case Closed: Start a Detective Agency in Gotham!

Requirements: Legally acquire the deed to a building and open a detective agency.

Difficulty: C

Rewards: 3 IP, 1 Talent Voucher, and the small increase of 1 Statistic!]

“...What? You’re a voyeur or something?”