(Edited with Grammarly on 7/30/2026)
'No.' Albert shook his head vigorously at that thought. 'That's going a step too far.'
While he had verified that receiving visions from objects was possible, he'd only really achieved it with a cursed object while in the middle of losing his mind. And no matter how much he wanted answers, trying to forcibly replicate all those factors to just achieve a chance...No, he wouldn't do that to himself.
Besides, last time he'd woken up in an alley missing a sock and a shoe, who knew what might happen next time? He knew that Bout of Madness table extremely well, and he got off lucky. Incredibly so. He could've been thrown into a bout of blind rage and attacked everything or everyone in sight, faint into a useless heap, lose one of his senses or the ability to control a limb, or even gain something more permanent like a phobia or mania.
Either of which would only further make his life harder.
A familiar ringing shattered whatever hold his thoughts had over him, and reaching into his pocket, he answered with but a glance at the caller ID.
"Hello?"
"Lovecraft?" Willow's voice sounded breathy, maybe a bit agitated as well. "Where are you?"
"I'm at home...why? What's going on?"
"Good...You remember that guy you wanted me to look into? Keegan Gould? Yeah, well that name is all clear. Just some guy running a telemarketing firm, moved here to the States about five years ago, and other than his father, Wesley Gould, a minor millionaire who owns a few trucking companies, nothing is interesting about him…"
"Except?"
He could hear from how tight her voice was getting that there had to be something else. Something that had shaken her. And all she really needed was someone to nudge her along.
"Excepts, Keegan Gould is just his American name. His full name is Gould-Itou Kouki. It's a good thing the Madame still had some connections over in Japan; otherwise we wouldn't have found anything. He comes from relatively old money that's fallen on hard times, at least third generation. And he's currently wanted for fleeing the country on bail...for a total of eight, eight counts of sexual coercion."
Albert could feel the world warble beneath his feet, and he instantly felt glad that he'd been sitting during all that. But even then, he collapsed near bonelessly into the couch. He gazed up at the ceiling as the enormity of the situation hit him.
'If it's that many in Japan...then how many are here? Was Gotham even his city stop? Where else had been and who else at that company had been assaulted by this guy?'
Eight-no, nine victims that he now knew of.
A few questions were running amok in his mind.
"Do you know why Japan hasn't extradited him yet?"
If Keegan was responsible for at least eight victims at the time, and fled the country while on bail, it didn't make any sense why Japan wasn't hounding him down to the ends of the Earth. Such an arrest would've been too massive to hide from the public; even if he was from a wealthy family, there had to be some limit...right? There was no way a government would allow such a dangerous person, who has shown a complete lack of remorse and a complete unwillingness to stop, to just wander around society where they would offend again. At the very least, he should've been put on the international sex offender registry.
Even a wanted sign sent to every major police station and Japanese embassy would've been more than enough! So why, why had this monster been able to get away with this for so long?!
"Well, from our sources, they do remember the case happening about five-ish years ago, but you know how people are. Give them enough to distract them, and soon, something else will draw that outrage away. So despite the standing order for his arrest, they haven't actually put an extradition order yet. It's fucked, extremely so. Honestly, if I knew we had some fucker like that here...well let's just say no one in Gotham would be all too happy."
"…"
As much as Albert would love to leak this information out to every news station out there-
'That does sound like a good idea, actually.' If he dragged this out to the public, then it should drum up enough outrage that getting him sent back to Japan shouldn't be too much of an issue. But that could wait. Malaya was his priority, and if he just published this out, who knew what Keegan might do to her in order to cover up yet another instance of coercion.
And what if the guy had dirt on her as well? Like photos or even videos? What if he released them as one final spiteful action? Or maybe even, somehow, use them as evidence to the courts of it being completely consensual?
No, he needed a head start. Needed to Malaya out of there in such a way that left Keegan unable to defend himself until it was too late. She needed a chance to file a police report against him and provide testimony.
So, that left two viable options.
'Kill him.' One voice rasped, those same splendidly frigid fingers digging in deep into his shoulder. Something large seemed to loom over him, uncaring of the building dimensions. 'Nine times?! Nine times the justice system of two countries has failed! Why give him a chance to slip away? Think of the victims! Think of their friends and families that had to sit back and watch as their loved ones turn into a mere shade of their original selves! You felt it then, didn't you?! That helplessness? That fear?! Why not just finish the job?! Get rid of a monster this world seems so reluctant to do! It'll be easy! Just one shot, that's all you need!'
It would be easy, so easy to do. He knew what Keegan looked like, knew what car he drove, knew where he worked, and knew where he would probably be throughout the week. And with how many resources were at his disposal, as long as he was willing to get into debt with the Madame, he wouldn't even need to pull the trigger himself. He could have him mugged in an alleyway, have his brakes cut, or even just have him drink something that'll leave him gasping on the floor.
'Why leave it up to chance?' Those ice-cold lips grazed his ear, sending a spike of goose flesh to form across his neck. 'Mistakes could happen; he could survive an 'accident'. Could survive a mugging and probably could make it through a car accident or 'allergic reaction'. But you know what he won't survive? A hole through his brain. Besides...could you really sleep at night knowing someone else was shouldering that burden?'
'No.' He tried to shake off the...thing. Violently pulling away from the wall in some hopes of pushing it away into the ether like last time. 'It's-it's not my place to kill him. I-I don't have the right; the cops will deal with it...they have to. Especially with their new Commissioner.'
'You're goddamn coward, you know that?' But this time, it seemed the thing wasn't going to be dismissed that easily. And in fact, its fingers dug in deeper. Crooked and dirty nails pressed in tighter, just barely being held at bay by his skin. 'You've always been one! Don't you feel anything? He deserves it! It doesn't matter who does it; that creature needs to die. He won't stop; we both know this. He won't stop until someone puts him down like the feral dog he is! Think of it as recompense for your inaction that night; you could've stopped things that first night. You were there, you were standing outside that hotel while she was being assaulted, sitting back and twiddling your thumbs as it all happened!'
Albert flinched as though being slapped, and suddenly, even breathing felt as if he had a filter over his mouth. Struggling, he barely had the wherewithal not to just drop his phone. Gripping tightly with his suddenly numb and boneless fingers. Heart beating like a drum, every thump sending reverberations strong enough to make his bones rattle.
It was right, but how he wished it wasn't. He wished he could've just 'forgotten' about it. He knew, logically knew that he only figured out what was going on well after he went home that night, but that didn't stop his guilt from rearing back its ugly head once more.
'You knew something was wrong even before then!' Another slap and he could see black spots forming at the corner of his vision. 'Your 'instincts' were screaming at you! That's why you stayed! That's why you didn't just leave her at that hotel! You knew this case was too 'easy'! But still, you didn't sneak upstairs! You didn't even try to unmask whoever was in that room with her; you didn't ask questions and were just willing to chalk it up to cheating! It took another victim pointing out their similarities to get you to look closer! You owe them! Be an actual man for ONCE and kill him!'
"-craft? Lovecraft?! Hello? Are you still there?!"
But he was beyond listening, his mind hurtling down that spiral once more. Those insidious whispers growing in volume, even shouting above his ear-bumping heartbeat. Each crying out for blood. Gnashing their teeth for justice. And howling to high heaven for him to pay for his sins.
It was too much. From the inadequate inhales that were more like wheezes, to the cold sweat soaking his body, and to how the world seemed to tilt and swirl beneath his feet, unconsciousness was but a hair's breadth away. What a mercy that would be. To just sleep through all this and treat it all as a bad dream...but wouldn't that just be running away? Wouldn't that be him pushing this issue further down the road?
What would stop this from happening again? He could wake up and go through this all over again, and then he would really be in trouble.
So with an effort of will, he shook off the clawing grasps of unconsciousness. And almost instantly, he could feel cold hands shove with more force on his shoulders. But this time, he didn't try to fight it and nearly folded himself in half until his head was shoved between his knees. There, air filled his lungs with a few ragged and desperate breaths. Those black spots vanished in just a blink and the world ceased its spinning.
And after a while, the rapid, all-encompassing beats of his own heart fell back down to a reasonable volume. For once, in what felt like a long time, he felt like he could finally hear his own thoughts. Could focus long enough to actually be cognisant of the world around him.
"Y-yeah." He hated how shaky and ragged his voice sounded, feeling as if he'd just tried to swallow down sandpaper after screaming out uselessly into the grand emptiness of space for well over three days. Almost as if he could just barely feel his vocal cords ready to rupture. Clearing his throat with a few dry coughs, he continued. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear what you said after why he hadn't been extradited."
"...That far back? Damn, I don't remember really. That was like...what? Nine? Ten minutes ago? But I don't think I said anything all that important; I was just rambling, but I did ask how you came across him."
'Ten minutes ago?' Albert's head spun, only just barely resisting yet another spiral with an effort of his shaky will. It hadn't felt that long. A minute, two even. Had he really spent ten minutes just panicking?
"He's involved in one of my cases." He didn't really see a reason to hide this much, especially since things were coming to a close within the next twenty-four hours. That much, he could swear. One way or another. "He has another victim. My client's wife, I thought it was infidelity until...until I found out otherwise. I-I might need your help."
"…" The other end was deathly silent, and he could already imagine her face twisting up into all manner of expressions. He knew of Willow's past. Knew of some of her most traumatic events and knew this was a big ask. A giant one, actually. A similar situation to this probably happened to her too, and now here he was asking her to trudge through her own hell to drag someone else out. It was selfish and stupid on his account, but sadly, she was also the best person to ask. He needed someone loose with the law, connections to get them into the hotel without a big fuss, and someone less likely to turn the guy into a smear on the ground. Maybe reaching out to Barbara would've been better. She could probably get the whole place raided...Or maybe he could've swatted the whole place and been done with it. "When?"
"When?" His thoughts screamed to a halt at her ready agreement. He knew he'd asked, but actually having her agree almost didn't feel real. Maybe she felt obligated because of the contract he'd signed with Madame Clements? But just as he was prepared to try and hypocritically dissuade her, she spoke up once more.
"I'm not doing this because of some damn contract." There was some real venom to her voice as she nearly spat off to the side. The sound of her moving around became clearer to him as zippers were opened and the all too familiar metal clicks filled his ears. "That's nine times, Lovecraft. Nine! And if I know the kind of guy this Keegan is, it's all the whole lot more. He better be fucking glad you found him first if Madame Clements knew a fucking monster like him was in Gotham... well, he wouldn't be anymore. Now, when are we doing this? What do you need from me?"
"Have you heard The Delight Hotel?"
"That place? Really?" She actually sounded a bit offended and maybe even a tad dismissive. "I thought you were going to say something like the Olympic Lounge or The Bayt Al-Sha'ar or something, not that sleazy ass place...Really, I'm not sure you would've needed anything more than a phone call for them to fold. But yeah, that'll be easy enough...We could literally go there now."
"Not now, I'm pretty sure they're both already gone by now." He didn't try to ignore the twisting in his gut at his underlying admission and simply accepted the acidic taste rising up from the back of his throat. "But tomorrow morning around ten to noon, that's when we'll go. We-we're going to have to wait until they're both in the room so he won't suspect anything-but we'll follow right behind her so that nothing happens."
Hopefully.
"Can't say I like that plan very much…"
"I know, and if I knew of a better way to do it, then I would. If he's at the hotel, then he can't be at home to destroy or distribute evidence in some retaliation. And if she files a police report while he's stuck there, he can't pull anything or call anyone to try and flee the country. Honestly, it's not the plan. I just wish I had more time but-"
"But waiting any longer feels wrong." She finished for him, before pausing a scant few breaths. Her voice dropped a few octaves lower like they were whispering in a corner somewhere. "So, I'm guessing you want him arrested and not...dealt with?"
"…" Again, it was that question. And with it, a lot of implications. What right did he have to make that decision for Malaya? What right did he have to take a life? Again and again, this same problem came swinging back into his face. "I would like to get him charged here and extradited, as given the charges against him in Japan haven't been dropped yet, I can assume whatever influence his family had doesn't go all that deep. You said his family was declining, right?"
"Yeah, but we don't really know to what degree though," He could almost see Willow nod as she continued with a rather pointed question. "But that's well and good, but I think you're forgetting something. What does she want to happen? Have you even spoken to her? She might just want to leave Gotham and never let this ever reach the light of day; it takes a lot, and I mean a lot of courage, to go through the legal process. Those defense lawyers, they won't fight fair. They'll try anything and everything to poke holes in her story, and will probably try to rile her up to show to the court that she's unstable and her testimony invalid. Keegan will tell them everything, and they won't hesitate to use it against her. They will try to tear her down, make her relive every single memory while hiding behind a professional mask and a whole bunch of legal jargon. She's going to need a vicious lawyer and...I think I know just the person."
"You mean Laurel?" Just speaking the name brought up the rather unpleasant memory of a short brunette who possessed a pair of small green embers of hate that seemed to burn ever hotter the longer he stayed in her presence. And he also vividly remembered calling him a 'thing' and how she advocated so fervently for putting a bullet between his 'beady' eyes. It was kind of hard to forget a person like that, and maybe he would admit that it was probably also why he'd kept his contact strictly with Willow thus far despite Cedar and Alder seeming like okay people. "Are you sure she'll be willing? I'm pretty sure she would do anything other than help me out of a wet paper bag."
"She's not that bad...She doesn't hate you in particular, Laurel just-she just has her own demons. That's all I'm going to say about it." The sigh in her tone was clear, and it was easy to imagine her rubbing her temples at his awkward attempt at levity. "But no, this is actually right up her alley. I'm actually sure she'll be offended if I didn't bring her up here. She'll take her on that much I can guarantee."
So they had a decent plan, both what to do when they got there and after if Malaya decides to take this to court. What else did they need?
"Should we run interference with his family? His father at least?"
"Funny you say that, he's not in Gotham. Never been here either, think it's the whole island thing. So if anything, I would be genuinely surprised if he has any actual connections here."
"Good, good…Is there anything else you think we need?"
"She'll probably need a few medical examinations, so maybe bringing along Alder could help? But since we're going a more legit route, we probably won't need to bring her into this. The only issue I can see coming out of this is when she goes down to report what happens. She won't want to be anywhere near a man after all this, and I'm worried that some of those fucking idiots will just scare her away."
"I might be able to help with that."
It would be a very...interesting conversation, but he did have one with the police. And making sure they were aware that the GCPD needed to deal with this carefully should help alleviate any issues.
"Well, if you say you can, but other than that, I'm not really seeing anything obvious. Maybe we'll think of something in the morning."
"Yeah, maybe we will...Thanks again, and I'll see you tomorrow. What do you say seven?"
"It's no problem, really. Situations like this hit close to home for a lot of us, and when I was younger, I'm sure all of us just wished we had someone looking out for us. If I can make sure there's not another me running around, then that much is enough to help me sleep better at night. See you tomorrow and try to get some sleep."
"I'll try, you too."
And with that, Albert hung up the phone. Sitting up out of his huddle, he allowed his arm to fall bonelessly to the patched cushions below. A bone-deep weariness filled him, the mere scant amount of energy he'd been able to summon now thoroughly gone. Despite that, despite the ever-twitching feelings as if he was trudging through molasses, sleep did not claim him.
No voices were screaming at him, no heavy weight forcing him down into the fetal position. Only a single question bounced around in his head.
Was there a better way?
Was there a better way to solve this? To get Malaya out of this safely, to get Keegan thrown behind bars, and for her to heal. All without dragging up more wounds or making things worse for her. He knew this answer, and it all lay just a phone call or text away.
He could reach out to Barbara, explain the whole situation to her, and have the police knocking on Keegan's door within the next couple of hours, but that left too much to chance. What if he found out about the police report and decided to flee the country? He'd done it once before, so what'll stop him from flying over to somewhere remote? And even if they could work in conjunction to make sure he wouldn't know what was going on before the trap snapped shut around him, that would take time. And there was no way he could stomach waiting for much longer.
And as for the likeliness of the Bat Family getting involved? Unless Keegan kept his mouth shut about a night visit by the caped crusader, it would leave a very visible trail to be reasonably followed. And if Albert just went around pretending like he didn't see such a thread despite Barbara knowing how observant he was, it would be like admitting that he knew about or suspected her secret identity all along.
But beneath it all, beyond the excuses he was throwing out, he knew one thing.
He was looking for a way out. An easier path to go down that took him out of the equation altogether. A way that would allow him to watch everything from a safe distance, that in no way could blame ever be placed at his feet. That even if the worst happened, even if the monster got away with it all, he could delude himself into believing he'd done the best he could. And that cowardice made his stomach perform flip-flops the likes of which even dolphins or seals would be envious of.
He knew himself well. Knew that the only reason he was fixating so hard on doing this himself was that this mix of guilt and denial was running rampant through him. Knew that if he had time to think, to sleep on it all, he would find some way to smother it all and separate himself from any consequences and responsibilities that might follow.
He might be running on fumes, but his mind had never been this sharp, this aware of his own flaws.
Albert needed something, needed an edge to resolve himself to this course of action. And almost unbidden, his eyes drifted over to that overturned pot. Beads of sweat already forming on his brow as he gulped through an all too dry throat.
'No.' He shook his head vigorously, instantly recoiling from the mere memory. Nonetheless, he rolled off the couch and crawled over to it carefully. Like he fully expected the pot to turn itself over and that damn scarf to come snapping out in a manner similar to a viper. 'I don't need to do this, I know I won't try to wiggle out of this.'
But even to him, the thoughts sounded soft, pleading and pathetic. And most importantly, false. How many promises to himself had he broken? How many times had he hesitated when the moment spoke for him to act? Why would tomorrow be any different?
'It won't be.'
More falsehoods.
Moving the books off, he finally flipped the pot back over. Exposing a lone scarf sitting exactly where he'd last remembered. It didn't look intimidating. Didn't appear to be made of scales, nor did it have fangs or claws. Just a simple bit of heavily worn fabric.
But even just looking at it sent a shiver of dread down his spine.
'We don't need to do this!'
The voice sounded far away, wispy in fact, as if it was but a moment's away from being blown away in the breeze. Despite that, its begging, whining tone was already beginning to get on his nerves.
Taking off his gloves, he snatched up the scarf before the voice could try to convince him otherwise.
'Yes, yes I do.'
[MP: 3/10]
With that, that stream of frost drowned out its screams. Drowned out the clawing feeling in his gut as that frigid energy ran rampant through his body. Beginning at the base of his spine, it flowed down. Curling at the edges as goose flesh began to form all across his flesh. Hair sticking straight to attention, splitting into two, both streamed down his arms.
That same agony nearly took him then, a constant thing that'll never fully fade. Reaching his hands, they split off into even smaller rivers. Slicing through 'flesh' and carving out its own path forward. And like before, the energy paused just as it was prepared to claw out into the real world. Pressing firm against his skin, it burst forward with the same care as one would a simple sheet of paper.
Biting back his wince, he focused more firmly on the newly transformed threads. Each waving back and forth over the scarf, each strand touching upon an invisible something. As if they were tasting its meal before digging in, and soon they all, at once, reared back and pierced through whatever barrier blocked them.
And instantly, he could feel it. Feel that wave of emotions crashing into him. Could feel the love, feel sorrow, feel the confusion, feel the hot anger that burned everything around him, feel that bleed away under a sudden splash of dread. Until he fell deep down into a well of still and rank reluctant acceptance.
Even while tensing in readiness, the sudden wave nearly undid him. It crashed down, trying its hardest to drown him completely in this euphoric bliss the likes of which bordered on a near religious awakening. But of which he knew, felt remarkably different than last time. As even if he'd steeled himself beforehand, there was simply no way his mind could fight against that current. This one, in comparison, felt oddly muted. Colors no longer exploding out into a mural of beauty and oneness.
As if instead of dancing through that chaotic storm, he was now simply scrutinizing a painting. Allowing him to, with some difficulty, wade above the wave of pleasure just long enough to make it to the other side.
He almost, almost wished he hadn't. As even before the high began to rapidly fade, something far, far stronger leapt out of the sea to devour him whole.
Disgust gobbled him up. Devoured his sense of smell, sense of taste, sight, and touch. Leaving him with nothing but the utterly bare awareness of his own body. Bile welled up and exploded out, leaking through his hastily raised fingers. And even with his own sickness soaking into his clothes, he didn't feel any less clean. After all, what was one more patch of filth on such a revolting body?
From the tips of his fingers, to every strand of hair, over every contour of flesh, to every uneven tooth, not a single part of him felt clean. Felt as if even if he scrubbed himself with iron wool down to the bone, he would never, ever feel clean again.
Sorrow filled him last, doing nothing to wash away the disgust and shame that suffused his entire body. Sinking deeper, etching itself into his bones.
"Fuck." Tears rolled down freely, mixing with the pool of sickness as the foreign emotions petered off. Leaving him more hollowed than ever before. In that emptiness, something hot and dark slid into place. "Fuck!"
He slammed his fist down.
"Fuck!"
"Fuck!"
"Fuck!"
His voice rose with each shout, fist slamming down with more force than the last. Splashing and spreading the pool beneath him, but at this point, he was beyond caring. Anger burning through him like a flame on dry wood.
Until even that left him, causing him to flop uselessly to the floor. Tears flowed freely, face screwed up in a nasty snarl as he glared off fruitlessly through the dark building.
Albert stayed there for what felt like hours. Going between bouts of blinding anger before falling into more sobs so heavy that it wracked his chest. Leaving him as nothing more than a silent heap, hand still gripped onto the scarf as if his life depended on it.
He wouldn't turn away from this. Wouldn't try to find an easier and less confrontational path that would shift the responsibility of failure onto anyone else but himself.
In this state, exhausted in body, mind, and spirit. He could finally see something ugly about himself. More than just his low APP score.
The reason why he was always looking for a chance to find different paths that left him out of the crosshairs was that he feared failure. Feared trying and having it all come crumbling down on him. He sought victory. Sought 'winning' above all else. Above helping people, above just surviving.
And here and now, he could even admit that when he'd failed to find Jacqueline, it wasn't just that there was a little girl somewhere out missing that had caused him to close off into himself. It was the fact he'd lost.
That he fail-no, COULD fail despite all his advantages.
[Psychology: 55%]
And that stone cold truth, along with the system verifying, made his stomach curdle like spoiled milk.
'Again.'
[MP: 0]
[HP: 15/20]
Blood began to mix with the pool of tears and sickness, but his mind was elsewhere. Swept away by the tide of foreign emotions. He wouldn't treat this as some game to win or lose; these were real people, not just points on a screen, and deserved to be treated as such. That much he would make damn sure, especially tomorrow.