This DCverse is Maddening

The first thing that hit Albert was the sudden blast of heat that washed over him, a clear difference from the rather chilly air. The gentle heat caressed his skin and calmed the bits of goose flesh that formed from the journey over here.

'I wish my heat worked like this.' He knew being jealous of a client wouldn't do him any favors but sometimes, things just wasn't fair. It just took forever for his own place to get to lukewarm at best, maybe owing to it's previous purpose but more likely due to how poorly the building was taken care of. 'That doesn't seem to be the case here..'

Even from just a cursory glance that was a fact that made itself readily known. The floorboards weren't bumpy under his meandering stroll, nor did they even squeak or buckle under the weight. The surrounding walls all had a uniform coating of paint that didn't look as though it was a decade since anyone gave a damn. And most importantly of all, the ceiling didn't have cracks nor did it have the dreaded dip of doom that had become the norm in Gotham.

From either sides of him a few pictures were hung along each side, most of them with Florence and a gap tooth kid with shaggy brown hair smiling together in a variety of situations. Fishing, camping, birthdays and even a few pictures were took of them posing before an arcade game with some rather insane high-scores. But if there was one thing that common among them all, it was the fact that it was always just the two of them.

'Divorced? Separated?' It was strange not even seeing the mother in what seemed like birthday parties but judging from the general set up of the living room, it hadn't been a recent thing to say the least. Instead of the couches or any real furniture, there was instead two lawn chairs facing a small green fordable table with either it's legs greatly cut or it had some rather substantial retractable legs. Now, Albert normally wouldn't think much of it and only chalk it up to money being tight or something but the massive television pushed up against the far wall was enough to rocket that option out of the realm of possibility. It wasn't the ridiculous sizes from his old world but still pretty big for this time era, it was more in line with how bulky TV's use to be. A series of button sat on the base, wires galore that were left in a tangled heap in the front and finally a DVD player pushed up against the side. Just looking at the small box lost in time was enough to send a spike of nostalgia to course through him.

Now, he didn't particularly see a problem with living like this. Hell, his place was even sparser across all the rooms but there wasn't a day that went by that didn't include Harley complaining about his home being a 'man cave'. Even Ivy joined in on the ribbing occasionally. And he had a feeling that even she would have a field day looking at this place.

"Nice place you got here."

Albert finally said as the sound of staggering footsteps grew closer behind him, truly meaning every word at just how homey everything felt. It actually looked lived in for one, with a few miscellaneous trinkets littered here or there on the carpeted floor. A window off to the side gave a pleasant view of a run down building was like looking into a different world in comparison. A black curtain was pushed to the side to let in some of the noon light, alighting the room in a gentle glow.

"Thanks," Florence yawned," Take a seat, I'm going to get some coffee. You want some?"

"I'm good but thanks."

Blame it on Jeremiah's coffee spoiling him rotten, either way instance coffee just hasn't had the same appeal it once had. His pallet had become much too fine. Despite asking, the man was already long gone, slipping past him and disappearing into one of the adjoining doorways. There were two of them from what he could see, one seemingly leading to the kitchen while the other was shadowed in heavy darkness in a way that people tended to like their bedrooms to be. Taking a seat, he was suddenly shot back into his college years. Living day to day with nothing but a pack of ramen noodles and creaky chair that did nothing to alleviate his aching from body, cursing everyday and counting down the days a holiday would close down campus long enough to go home to actually enjoy cushioned furniture that wouldn't absolutely destroy his back. His body didn't sink into the chair, no it was more like he was being suspended on a series rubber bands. It's edges biting deep into the back of his legs as he turned every which way to find some degree of comfort.

Trying to distract himself, Albert took in the large screen playing some sort of football game on a much reduced volume and actually tried to follow what was going on. Only to fail completely a scant few moments later. It seemed sports wouldn't be his thing in this world either, instead he silently scanned the room. Eyes like a hungry maw as it took in every bit of information available to him. Every photo, finger painting, report card and even the small Superman action figure propped up against the nearby windowsill.

'The kid's living the life,' He sighed. An echo of envy so distant that it couldn't even be called a twinge. Florence obviously made time and put in effort to make sure his son didn't miss out on anything in life but it didn't seem like he spoiled the kid rotten. At least that's not what those straight A's told him. But all that went out the window as his eyes stumbled across something of great interest.

A large metallic box laid leaning against the boxy TV base, a controller with a big red nob on the joystick. In classic DC fashion, it didn't have any logos that would instantly pop out to him but instead a very familiar name plastered across it's front.

'Wayne Gaming.' It took all his willpower not to outright roll his eyes at the device. Bruce truly had his finger in every single pie that was out there. 'I wonder if it's bugged too?'

But Albert had the feeling that even if he could guarantee Florence that he could put it all back together afterwards without damaging anything, that there was simply no way in hell his client would allow him to get with ten feet of the thing with a screwdriver.

Speaking of the man, he could hear a pair of much stabler foot steps coming his way and not too long later his client came waltzing into the room sipping on a cup of coffee. It's steam slightly obscuring his face as he plopped down in the other lawn chair, seemingly uncaring of the loud creaking that ensued.

"I needed this." Florence sighed contentedly as he sipped carefully at the visibly steam cup cupped in one hand. The rather loud slurping sounds was like nails being scratched down a chalkboard by some cruel and long nailed crone that thoroughly enjoyed watching people squirm at such a simple thing. Putting his own discomfort aside, he could see the man's entire attitude take a full flip. That lazy slump fixing itself into just a more causal lean, muscles actually doing their jobs and not just hang there uselessly. But most of all, it was those eyes. A gaze that held a sharpness it completely lacked just a scance few minutes ago.

"There are a few things I must ask of you before we start." The private investigator waited just a few moments, allowing his client to slurp noisily at an ever emptying cup filled with a pitch black brew. The more awake he was, the better.

"Oh?" A single brow raised in question. "Like what?"

"Permission to snoop around your apartment." Holding up a hand to forestall the look of confusion and outrage that flittered across his face, he continued his blunt statement. "Of course, you wouldn't be giving me full reign. You would list some place that are off limits and you'll be able to watch me at all times to make sure I'm not just thief scoping out the place."

"Now you got me worried you're actually a thief now…" A forced grin spread across the man's face but it was quickly hidden from view by a bright orange mug as he fell into silent contemplation. There was no need to say anything else, however the dice fell would just be how everything went. Any more would just sway the man to a conclusion that wouldn't be good for either parties. "I'll just say this, my room is off limits. No ifs or buts about it. I would say my son's room is included...but it'll be kinda hard to figure anything out if your barred. I'll keep an eye on you while you're in there but otherwise, I think that's it."

"That is agreeable terms." With a nod, Albert held out a gloved hand across the space. Which was soon met with a strong grip that took all his self control not to flinch or shy away. Retracting his limb, he continued while silently squeezing the blood flow back through his hand," Then why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?"

"Is this some sort of interview or something?" Florence snorted, a rather nauseating action given how far his nose was nestled in that mug. "But fine, I'll bite. My name is Florence Tanners, thirty-two years old and I have a bachelor degree in history and culture… You can see how much use that degree is granting me. When I'm not working, I'm with my son. Rodney's eight, kind of a handful at times but still a good kid nonetheless. Got a smile just as bright as his mind, I tell you he's real smart. Like being able to skip grades kind of smart. But that'll only make him a target in a city like this, it likes to stop down on any beams of light. It wouldn't take a week for some snot nosed brat to be jealous of a child of all people and then I would be in jail for punting some brat across the room like I was aiming for a field goal."

"Other then that there isn't really a lot to tell, it's just been me and him since….well the beginning. Us two against the world, let me tell you it was tough at first. I had been left with him and it took a bit to get use to being a father. I wanted to raise him different than I was, you know? I didn't want him to turn out like me so I took up every childcare book I could and asked for advice from some of my buddies at the time's spouses. I know it would've been easier to just give him up to his grandparents...but I wouldn't abandon him like that. That kind of stuff turns people into monsters, you know? It breaks them in a way that only long, grueling and expensive therapy to remedy something like that. I don't want to him be like that freak jumping around the bat costume. I tell you, that man's unresolved trauma would surely be enough to tower over the Wayne's Tower."

'If only you knew exactly how right you were.' It was kinda of funny to see some random person get so close to the secret identity of one of the most mysterious people in all of DC… But maybe it was more scary to see the lack of understanding in his client's eyes, like the idea of ever connecting the two had never even crossed his mind. It made him want to slightly drop at the man's thoughts, guide him to uncovering a secret honestly best left unanswered but with an intenral shake of his head that particular suicidal thought was tossed out the window. 'Know Bruce, I'm pretty sure all his products are at least bugged in some way. Probably not all the time but maybe when a couple series of phrase words are said? Like Bruce, Wayne and Batman?'

He didn't know, and also didn't think the man himself would be telling anyone that little bit of information unless that maniac came up with something better.

"But I think that's about it, do you have any specific you want to know?"

"No," Albert had enough for right now, just having a base to start off on was enough for him. Plus besides, it didn't seem like he would be getting anything more from the man. His shoulders were tensed, wound up to the point of resembling a spring trap or cornered animal. Something all (most) people knew to retreat from with slow steps. Taking a step back now would do them some good," Thank you, now could you walk me through what happened that night?"

"Sure, let me just put this in the sink." Florence said, rocking out of his chair with that obnoxious creaking sound scratching across the inner ear. In just a few steps, half his body disappeared behind the wall before turned back around to motion to the still sitting teen. "C'mon, I'll walk you through what happened.."

"That would be appreciated."

With a nod, the investigator stood and followed behind the man, eyes straining to adjust to the darkening hallway. He could see a few pictures here too, but there forms were not all too distinct only being able to distinguish a similar pattern as before. Two figures, one significantly smaller and the other always in some either lifting or holding the child-like outline.

"It all started some weeks ago," The man started his tale, a yawn ripping through him. Guess a single cup of coffee wasn't enough to shake off those persistent remnants of sleep. Small hands that gripped at the mind to drag them back into the sweet embrace of a dark more comforting than anything else in this world. "Rodney came screaming and running out of his room here, charged right into my room and jumped on my bed. More accurately, he landed on me. Let me tell you this, it doesn't matter how small someone is, it will always hurt being used as a landing strip. He started blubbering about there being a creature in his closet, a pair of glowing red eyes looking at him from within."

"Well, me thinking we just had a break in and was dealing with some sort of freak I took my bat from the side of my bed and cleared the entire apartment. Turned on every light and opened every door. As I told you before, there wasn't anyone in sight. Not even in his closet and you'll see, it's not a really big space. All along he was telling me it had to be Big Foot of all things. As for why he was so sure, I don't know. But even after clearing his entire closet, there wasn't even a rat or roach in sight."

"If you don't mind me asking," Albert felt there were a few things left unsaid, given the part of Northern America they were in it was better to assume it could've been The Jersey Devil not the elusive hairy giant. "Why does he think it's Big Foot? Why not something else? A monster? Bad guy? Why Big Foot?"

"Well…" Florence scratched the back of his head as he leaned into a nearby room, the flickering on to bath the hallway in that yellow glow. The once indistinct pictures slamming right into focus and the investigator was not surprised to see more of the two doing a wide variety of activity in them, that same gap tooth grin in every single one. Looking a bit forward, he could see a single table pushed far against the dead-end wall. It was simple in design, polished wood and standing not even up to his hips. But that wasn't what drew his eyes, two candles rested on the surface. Both unlit and surrounding a single photo. "That's probably my fault, you see…. It's just better to say it runs in his blood."

But the private eye was only half listening to the attempts to dodge the question, gaze locked onto the photo with a near single minded focus. The photo had a much younger version of Florence, wearing some sort of plaid shirt, heavy duty boots and resilient looking pants. In the background, a small pile of camping equipment could be seen but that wasn't what drew his attention. It was the woman that stood awkwardly nestled in his arms.

She had pitch black hair tied up in a loose pony tail, a pair of thick glasses perched on her pointed nose and wide, familiar grin spread across her blushing cheeks. Large brown eyes looking directly into the camera as thin fingers clutched at the man's shirt. Wearing baggy khakis, a thick over coat and heavy duty boots that looked more expensive than anything the PI had.

The two seemed to be on some sort of mountain, surrounded on all sides by an endless tide of indifferent trees. But just before he could take a single step forward to get a better look, a single hand snatched the small framed photo out of sight with the gentleness of a giant cradling a glass figurine. Florence didn't look at him, glazed eyes locked on the snapshot of history. He didn't look mad, just a sort of sorrowful lost that only really ever pointed to one thing.

"Rodney's mother, she-" The man's voice came out a bit hollow, years of emotions striking at his throat. "She was always into that kinda stuff. Met her in college and we hit it off pretty well. Let me tell you, she was an absolute savant when it came to taking pictures. A real gift..something she used to hunt down for any evidence of cryptids. She was...a bit special you could say, often got hyper fixated on things and positively stubborn beyond belief. Once she had her goal set on something, nothing anyone said would ever be able to sway her otherwise."

"There were some complications at birth and the doctors were only able to save one of them. It was the last choice she made."

The air had grown somber at his tale. Albert didn't really have a leg to stand on, that since of lost was something utterly alien to him. He had never found someone in his past life to this extent, especially not with the love and sadness this man before him did. Lost was always hard to deal with. Most people spent their entire lives grieving over their loved ones, never to recover from an empty husk just waltzing about.

"Come in," Florence said suddenly, tone hollow and monotone like someone had flipped a switch. One hand motioning the PI forward and the other clutching the photo close to his chest. "Yo-you can take a quick look around...just give me a minute."

Nodding, he didn't reply verbally and only walked into the bedroom. Pretending to not notice the man rubbing furiously at his eyes, no words could be said to comfort him. The two weren't friends or even acquaintances, anything he said would just come out hollow and insincere. A way to score some brownie points from a client.

Letting the man grieve in peace, Albert surveyed the small room he found himself in. Just from a cursory glance he could only tell a child truly did live here and recently too if the still dripping juice-box was to be believed. Posters of Superman plastered across the walls, a small bed pushed far against the opposite side of the room. If the red, blue and yellow bed sheets weren't enough to tell the child was Man of Steal fanboy the multitude of action figures told him all he needed to know. Hell, he could even see some plushies peaking out from a green basket that seem to act as a toy box of sorts.

"I know." The helplessness permeating the man's voice spoke of many restless nights. "Rodney's just a huge fan and I guess it's better than looking up to the cops or something but still.."

"There aren't too many better role models than a physical god with the attitude of a boy scout."

"I know but still," He sighed," Couldn't he have looked up to someone...normal? Like a firefighter or something? He constantly asks me when he's going to be able to fly like Superman!"

"Aiming for the sky isn't always a bad thing," The PI replied, gazing running over the room a good few times just to confirm some things. It was rather strange to see a room lack a window after all. "Superman's an icon, a symbol of peace, safety and self control. Why else do you think his foes don't go splat when fighting someone that has caught a plane? He must be pulling his punches all the time. Plus besides, he'll grow out of it eventually."

"I certainly hope so." Florene grumbled, obviously shaking off the dower mood from before. "You know, he's even sent a letter to him about this. Says Big Foot won't know what hit him."

"He wants to see Superman fight Big Foot?"

That had to have been a comic at some point, it sounded just ridiculous enough to have actually been a thing. (A/N: This is actually a comic, seriously go look up Superman vs Bigfoot. DC truly was the wild west back then. XD)

"I'm not sure," As he spoke, Albert carely walked through the clutter filled room. His eyes locked onto a rather skinny door. "It's either he wants them to capture Bigfoot or just take some sort of evidence."

The door loomed high above and this close, he could see a slight gap on the top. A gap certianly large enough for a pair of glowing red eyes to look out of. Sweat began to pool down his back, gloves growing much too stuffy as a series of possibilities slipped into his mind. A large figure started to take form in his mind's eye, large hairy arms ready to whip out with the force of run away train, a putrid maw filled with rows of yellowed fangs ready to rip into his flesh with the same difficulty he had with a banana and orbs that had grown mad from decades of humans futilely hunting it. Oh how it relish his flesh, crunch through bone to get to the goody marrow within, use his skull as a bowl to slurp away at his mind and use what remained to pick at it's teeth.

'Do I really need this job?' Just the image alone was enough for him to begin second guessing all his choices leading up to this moment. 'I can survive a bit longer, at least long enough for something else to come up… I'll just have to be a bit frugal for the days, weeks to come.'

But he knew that was just his lizard brain speaking up, if there was truly something behind this door then surely some of his skills would've pointed it out by now...Right?

'Unless whatever in there is sneakier than your skills can detect.'

Internally growling at the rather unhelpful thought, he violently threw open the door and leapt back with all his might. The hand that reached to his firearm froze in place as the completely empty closet came into view.

The space truly wasn't large, something that Michael surely wouldn't be able to squeeze in even if he was willing to take a few scrapes to do so. His shoulders would probably lock him in place, meaning getting out would be twice as much difficult as getting in. Only a small shelf with a bar hanging right a bit above eye level was present.

"What the…"

"See?" Florence snorted, not looking amused in the slightest at the PI's apparent skittishness. "I wouldn't even able to fit in there, much less Big Foot of all things."

Just as Albert was prepared to spew out a multitude of questions, surely to drown the man under endless pursuit of answers; the sound of the front door opening caused both their heads to whip around. A pair of stamping footsteps could be heard barreling their way and a high pitched voice screaming all the way.

"I KNEW it!" And a blink later, a huffing and puffing boy could seen. Leaning heavily on his knees as he wheezing for breath. A single, accusatory finger pointed up at a bewildered looking Florence. "You were going to hunt Big Foot without me!"