(Edited with Grammarly on 12/18/2025)
Albert sighed as he scooped up the sheets of paper before him; days of prep just went straight out of the window. Again. Dice and pencils lay strewn, multiple miniature paper cutouts now tipped over. A large pack of wolves with a gigantic dire monstrosity as the lead. In the middle of that carnage, three figures stood supreme.
He'd been looking forward to this particular encounter. It was supposed to be a mystical pack of wolf-like spirits causing chaos in the land, just a near cloud of snapping jaws and flashing claws. Crimson-eyed just to really swing home the fact that these were evil. A hedge wizard had proclaimed the pack to be a curse made manifest, divine retribution if they'd asked a priest or a natural phenomenon of the world itself if they chose to speak to the local wise man.
Successfully, over the course of multiple sessions, the teen had slowly lulled the pair into a spot of complacency by making them believe it was just going to be a somewhat normal pack just with some added flavor. He had been so pleased to see the looks of absolute shock on their face when they killed some of the pack, only for it to disperse and reform into a massive dire monstrosity.
Unriekk, Third Child of the Blightborn.
A named creature, the first he meant to introduce to act as a driving force in this little sandbox of a game. They were supposed to be creatures of legend, granted names and titles not by mere hearsay or rumor, but by the world itself. Each possesses unique abilities that make them stand atop the pinnacle of their respective food chains.
A close victory, difficult but fair. A combat puzzle. Something that should've taken at least half an hour to beat as they scrambled to figure out Unriekk's rules.
Until someone decided to flip the table on that boss battle.
And surprisingly, it wasn't Harley this time around, but instead, it was the redhead causing problems. As the blonde entered the fight, swinging, holding nothing back, she had been flipping through her notes. When it was her turn, there were no spells cast, but instead she pulled upon the multitude of joke items he'd stupidly given them earlier on.
Collar Of Domestication.
A goofy item they'd won by participating in a fun little festival session, something that would instantly turn any canine into a loyal companion...Things began to snowball right about then. He tried to resist by making Ivy roll to actually get the damned thing on the creature, but with the blonde fully on board with her insane grappling skills, it was a wrap.
Days of prep, just poofed into smoke. Sometimes, it really made him realize that his greatest enemy in this world would always be 'past' him.
"Aw!" Manicured fingers suddenly pinched his cheek, and a pale, grinning face looked down at him with a slightly teasing glint. Wearing a simple pair of ratty jeans and an oversized, ugly yellow sweater. She clutched a jumbled pile of notebook paper, sticky notes, and folders. A very habitual note taker, he found her to be. "Don't look so glum! You can try to kill us next time! Besides, now we got a pupper!"
"I still can't believe that worked," Ivy commented, sliding her own character sheet back into the usual black and green binder. A work of art if he'd ever seen one. Green orbs looked back up at the pair, but they seemed to have lost a few extra shades from when he first met them. Her red sweater hung loosely on her frame, a pair of black sweatpants that billowed out at the ankles. Crimson locks tied up in a messy ponytail. "I'm glad it did, but I wouldn't have been mad if it hadn't, though."
That had been his initial, visceral reaction to her reading out the effects of the collar. He could've just shot down even the attempt while destroying it just to set the discussion to rest. There were plenty of reasons he could wriggle out of this. One, by claiming that since this creature was intelligent, it was immune to the effect of such a low-level magic item. Or he could've argued that Unriekk was a wolf and not a dog. Or even just said that due to how low-level the magic imbued into the item was, its effect would've already evaporated.
But all those reasons sounded so...crude. So restrictive and railroad-y, like he was throwing a tantrum that they'd found a way to outmaneuver him. He just needed to look on at how much fun the pair was having and relive those memories of dungeon masters brutally shutting down such creativity to curtail that instinct. This wasn't just his game, his story. It was collaborative storytelling.
And in the end, he just let the dice decide.
"It's fine," Albert said finally, shaking off the blonde grip. "I'll figure something out. Let me walk you guys out."
"Why are you in such a rush?!" She looked down at the imaginary watch on her wrist theatrically, even going so far as to slowly count away at invisible clock hands. "It's barely...7 o'clock! It's a Friday! We could scrounge up some pizza money and hang out at our place! Red found this old, cheesy monster flick! Something about predatory plants popping out of the ground."
Her eyes narrowed in thought, scratching at that crown of her head. Before those orbs widened suddenly.
"Don't tell me...Little Al got himself a date?!"
"It's not a date."
He rolled his eyes at her antics, and honestly, there wasn't really a lot that needed to be done tonight. Hanging out with them sounded like a lot more appealing than just sitting there alone all night and maybe going to bed at an actual reasonable hour for once. But there were things he had to do, and waiting up on a certain someone was a part of that.
"Whose the special lady...or lad? You know I wouldn't judge you either way! They could even join us! Wouldn't that be a great, Red?!"
"…" The half-flora-half-human hybrid blinked slowly at her overly excited friend, incredulity present. But, maybe she was riding high on the good vibes or the victory she won that night, because he could've sworn there was but a mere sparkle of mischief within her usually bored tone. "Yeah, it would."
"Don't you go encouraging her now." He shook his head at the pair, ears picking up something slight and barely audible. But it was his queue. Making his way over, the teen called over his shoulder. "You've already met, she's here."
"Where?!"
He knew if his shoulder wasn't busted, Harley would've tried to bulldoze over him just to get a peek at this mysterious 'woman'. Instead, she hopped every which way around him in an attempt to get a look first. But all that met them was a darkening street with lines of empty buildings going on seemingly forever off into the distance. With only a single passerby far off in the distance to tell them that they hadn't fallen into some wrinkle in reality.
Opening the door slightly, a black figure sat primly on its haunches. Large and slightly narrowed yellow eyes looked up at him, a lone scar running down the crown of its head and ending just below her chin.
"Aww!" The blonde leaned over his shoulder, her voice rising an octave as though she was speaking to a baby. "You found your kitty? Red, you gotta come see this!"
Sundae only narrowed her eyes further, tail flicking about. Judging and waiting, before ultimately darting in between their legs to enter fully.
"How did you find her?" She whirled around to watch the feline hop from chair to table to begin swatting at the canine cutouts with far too much enthusiasm.
"She found me, somehow."
The stray came by nearly every day since he completed that case, sometimes early in the morning or well into the evening. But every time, she didn't stay too long and only really came to make her presence known. From the new set of scratches on the downstairs bathroom door, to the little bits of hair she left on the kitchen counter. To even the little 'surprises' left for him in the courtyard behind his home.
"Ah," The blonde nodded sagely, creeping over slowly with her hand outstretched. As though moving slowly had done anything to help disguise her intent. "So you were adopted. Understood. Kitty says it's how these things work out."
Just as her hand was ready to graze upon that sleek-looking fur, they blurred into motion. A black smudge on reality swipes ineffectually at a pale flash that dances just out of the way. Now standing a more respectable distance, she shook her finger as though disparaging a child.
"Nuh-uh!" Despite her tone, a smile was present. "You gotta be quicker than that! When my babies were puppers, they used to nip at my fingers all the time! Now they're big enough to start taking momma's fingers if I ain't careful….I sure hope they're alright, they must be missing their momma right about now…"
"But she's who you're waiting on?" She shook herself from her own self-induced melancholy, forcing that faltering grin back in place. "You gotta feed her and everything? Yeah, then you can swing by when you're done! Just knock, or Imma think you're trynna break in!"
"That sounds like a plan." He nodded at the two," I should be by in a bit."
"Just text Red if you're not gonna show up!" The blonde tried to look innocent when she said that, but from the way she bolted out of the building not too soon later, the image was completely ruined.
"…" The redhead in question, someone who probably hadn't owned a phone in years, could only look on helplessly. Shaking her head, she made her exit as well. Giving the last two occupants a simple nod. "Just text her...and thanks."
There was a lot left unsaid, but he nonetheless smiled at her as she left.
"Hey, girl." After closing the door behind them, he turned back to the menace, making an absolute mess of what remained of his epic encounter. Maybe it was needed to wash away the bitterness within his heart, as he didn't even feel a slight flicker of annoyance at seeing his paper cutouts being turned into soggy and crushed paper balls. Stepping closer, he carefully ran his hand over the creature's back. Feeling its warmth ooze into his hand and the texture of soft fur. Ending off at her head, he scratched gently. Receiving a purr all the while, he couldn't help but smile.
[SAN: 39/47]
Honestly, just having a cat around did a lot for his mental health. Combine that with this time to unwind, and it was no wonder his SAN was finally able to slowly creep back up. If he knew how beneficial it was, he probably would've tried to adopt a lot sooner.
Sundae nuzzled into his touch, her whiskers rubbing and sliding past the smooth texture of his glove. Nonetheless, that didn't stop her from taking the time to stomp on the remnants of his cut-out monsters.
It was soothing to the soul, calming. Flooding his system with endorphins, elevating his previously bitter mood. So much so that he'd completely shut himself out from the world around him. A good thing the alley-cat had way better awareness than he did as she darted out of his grip and hopped off the table before dashing into the kitchen.
Sighing, he turned around and saw two figures making their way to his home. Maybe around ten to twenty feet away, each wearing heavily worn jeans with steel-toed boots. A heavy dark jacket that did nothing to hide their muscled form. Not in a way where they were showing off or built themselves to appear larger than life. But more as though their bodies were just the byproduct of their day jobs.
The taller one, someone who would positively loom over him without even trying, waved at him through the window once they noticed his attention was solely on the two of them.
Squinting his eyes, his tensed shoulders eased as he finally recognized the man. Waving back, he turned and began to quickly clean up the mess left behind, the best he could.
It was a fruitless effort, he knew, as not even a few seconds later, the front popped open and his guests came waltzing in.
"Hey, Albert," The big man nodded, even having the nerve to look a bit sheepish. "Sorry about swinging by uninvited and all."
"It's fine, Malcolm." He waved him away as he forced a few extra sheets of paper back into his folder. At least making the area look presentable. "How is your training going?"
"Uh," Malcolm tilted his hand from side to side. "Coach is something else. He has me on this diet, and I'm already sick and tired of chicken...But we didn't come by to catch up, Albert. This here is a coworker of mine."
"Russel." Now speaking up, the man looked to be in his mid to late thirties with heavily tanned skin. Appearing stocky with a bit of a gut, he still looked solid. A few locks of black hair could be seen peaking out from beneath his dark gray skullcap. His beard was full and slightly unkempt, a few loose gray strands with the texture of straw were poking out every which way. But whether it was just from working all day or his normal state, it would be impossible to tell just by taking in that simple detail. Combine that with his yellowed and overgrown nails, dried lips that looked right about ready to split open to weep blood, and those sunken, discolored brown eyes. Frankly, the guy looked like he hadn't gotten a proper night of sleep in days. Holding his hand out, he grunted out a greeting, "You're the PI that helped Malcolm here out?"
"The name's Albert." He accepted the handshake readily enough, immediately feeling as though he'd just put his hand into a leather glove a few sizes too small. Russel was a working man, that much was clear from the strong and calloused grip wrapping itself around his hand. Even though he wore gloves, it did nothing to mitigate that feeling. "And I can't say. Client confidentiality, you see?"
"You were right." Russel took back his hand and turned to face his coworker, a twitch at the corner of his lips that might've been mistaken for a trick of the eye or a mirage. "He does feel like a snake oil salesman."
"Is that so?" Albert raised a brow and looked at the suddenly sheepish boxer in training before turning back. "What can I help you with...But I should tell you, I'm freshly out of snake oil."
Suddenly, the little fragments of energy within the man vanished all at once. Like stars being violently swallowed whole by a wandering black hole. Massive shoulders slumped, as though each was anchored to a pair of planets. Seeing this, Malcolm let out a cough.
"Maybe, we should do this somewhere more...private? Official?" As though to prove his point, he waved behind the somber man to the massive windows. With the light overhead, anyone from the end of the street could easily get a good view of them, and if the conversation went as the PI expected, it was better to be somewhere more secure.
"Yeah, I have an office upstairs." The teen motioned to the back of the building. "First door on your left, just give me a moment and I'll be with you guys in just a moment...Just be careful of the stairs, they're pretty steep."
Nodding, the fighter began to push the despondent man to the back of his home and up those stairs. A flinch ran up his spine from every worrying creak his stairs gave under the combined weight of the two giants. When he heard that first door creek open, he let out a sigh before clearing the table and forcing everything away into his folder. Worrying about the order could wait until later. With everything in hand. He made his way to the back of the building before turning right, stepping into the small make-shift kitchen, only to see Sundae waiting. Tail waving, she silently nudged one of the bowls his way. Her intentions were clear.
"I won't be able to sit here and keep you company while you eat," He soothed, placing the folder off to the side and popping open the fridge. Taking no time at all, the bright red container instantly caught his eye. Atop its lid, many warnings were written boldly. Her name and the word 'CAT FOOD', and of course, the very important 'DO NOT EAT'. And actually looking at the semi-translucent, it did somewhat look like normal tuna. If he squinted. But just opening the container was enough to get rid of that wandering thought. Appearing to be about most of the way done, he quickly dumped the rest into the awaiting bowl. "Looks like I'm gonna be busy for a bit."
But the feline was already darting in to begin devouring the slop with great gusto. Smiling, he made sure to refill the water bowl before tossing the now tightly shut container into the sink and leaving Sundae to her dinner.
Walking up those steep stairs, that grin slowly melted away. Eyes growing distant and back straight. From everything he'd gathered about Russel, he wasn't a man who would respect unease or a lack of confidence. He was a straightforward person who didn't seem to appreciate the usual song and dance when it came to some of the more delicate issues.
So, trying to appear well-connected or knowledgeable wouldn't achieve his desired results; instead, it would make the teen look like a kid playing pretend in his eyes.
Slowly, he 'shifted'. Mimicking the man's mannerisms as closely as possible without coming across as mocking. Back straight, arms loose, he tried to ooze not swagger but a silent but experienced professional in the field. Like a senior coworker, someone who'd worked the same job for thirty years while actively avoiding any attempt at foisting a leadership role on his shoulders. That image in itself wasn't hard to wrap himself in, as there had been plenty of older people he'd worked with in this past life who were exactly like that. They were quiet and observant enough to tell when someone was getting ready to quit or couldn't survive in their field.
Reaching the top step, he took a breath before opening his office door wide. Instantly, he saw the problem. The room itself wasn't all that large, and with these two giants in the room, it made the office seem smaller than it actually was. Claustrophobically so. And with the fact that he only had two chairs present, Malcolm was awkwardly forced to half-lean, stand just beside the door with a filing cabinet to his back.
And as for his potential client? The man looked like he was barely able to sit up fully without slouching heavily in the chair. Every twitch causes an audible creek to bounce around the small room.
Taking all this in, he didn't spare any of the assessing gazes being sent his way and simply squeezed past the two before falling into his own seat directly across from them. Stooping his fingers together, he began.
"Now, Russel. What's the problem?"
"…" The man was silent for what felt like a full minute, as he clearly struggled not to just splurge everything out all at once. His face flickered between a mix of emotions. Anger, sadness, grief, before settling on defeat as he somehow slumped further into himself. Instead, he reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a heavily folded-up paper. Unwrapping it, Albert caught Malcolm flinch slightly before looking down at the floor somberly. Tucking that away for now, he watched on as the man carefully straightened out the creases on the paper and leaned forward to place it on the desk.
On it, a grainy but still clear photo of a smiling girl no older than eight years old with short black hair tied up in twin pigtails and similar brown eyes to the man across from him. Wearing what looked to be a purple princess costume with a simple birthday tiara across her brow, she could even be seen carrying a visibly glowing, shaped, plastic wand. In the background, there were clear signs of a party. A place with lots of slides and arcade games off in the distance. Blurring figures could be seen, some just as short as she was, and others seemingly giants in comparison.
An innocent photo, probably something a parent would keep tucked into their wallet just to look at when they needed a reminder as to why they're working so hard. Why do they need to take one step before the other and not tumble. But that wasn't what this was. That image only took up around fifty to sixty percent of the page. The rest filled with a heavy and bold message that made him feel as though his stomach had fallen out.
MISSING.
Normally, missing person fliers wouldn't have even been enough to attract his attention, just from how many there were just flying about on unseen breezes. Even on the request board, the layers of missing person posters were so numerous that he actually remembered flipping them up just to get a look at some 'real' work for him to do. He was so desensitized to such posters that seeing one this up close shouldn't have affected him in the slightest.
But...it was different when actually meeting the person who probably spent many nights going from store to store, to lamp post to lamp post, pinning them up.
"Her name is…." Russel coughed, but the sob it hid was clear. Murky brown eyes lost their focus as he continued with a swallow. "Her name is Jacqueline, and she's my little sunshine. She's always been a kind kid, far too kind sometimes. Always happy, always laughing, and always curious. She loved the color purple, but it changes to blue sometimes, she hates spiders and loves dogs….And it's been almost three months since she went missing."
Albert closed his eyes tightly at that last part.
'If it's been that long…' He quickly shut that train of thought down; it was better not to dwell on the worst-case scenario.
"She's alive." As though reading his thoughts, the father continued vehemently. A fire igniting within those eyes, a strong thing, not an ember but a blazing inferno that would refuse to die down in the slightest. As though he was speaking into the world, and reality was enforcing his words into an undeniable fact. "I know it. I just know it! Those worthless cops won't get off their ass to do anything about it. When I first reported her missing when she didn't come home from school, they turned me away and told me to come back after seventy-two hours to file a missing person report! The nerve! My seven year old daughter went missing and they wouldn't even lift a finger to do their damn job! Protect and serve, my ass!"
But the man was clearly running on fumes, and that sudden burst of energy was nothing more than smoke screen as he once more fell back into the chair. Exhaustion and stress etched fine lines into his skin. Unwilling tears, flowing openly down his rough cheeks.
"I just want my daughter back, I want my little sunshine back. Is that too much to ask? It's been months, and no one seems able or willing to help… I can't go on without her in my life. I heard from Malcolm that you require a deposit...I don't care how much I have to pay, just bring Jacky back to me! Please! I'm begging you!"
[Case Opened: A Father's Woe!
Description: Russel, a grieving father looking high and low for his streak of sunshine in his life. After receiving no aid from Gotham's boys in blue and spending months wandering the city like a ghoul, he's on the very edge of losing even the smallest embers of hope he clings onto so desperately! And now here's this desperate man, appearing on your doorstep when all else has failed him! It's time for you to pick up the slack for this broken and corrupt system!
Requirements: Find and reunite Jacqueline with her father!
Difficulty: F+
Rewards: 2 IP]
[Would you like to take on this case?]
[Yes/No]