Chapter 35: Sidequest

'Finally.'

Albert nearly wanted to cry out in joy as he finally turned down another alleyway before coming across those pearly gates. He had spent nearly the pass thirty minutes walking with his head down as Gotham slowly descended into complete anarchy. Having witnessed many fights break out over looting rights, had only further itch at that sixth sense that screamed at him to get the hell out of there.

Who was he to ignore such a sensation? And only after he had passed by another looting group, did those blessed instructions point him in the right direction. The alley he entered didn't look any different from any of others, still as gross as the rest of them. But where this one differed was with the large metal double doors embedded into the sidewalk itself.

Sure it had some grime and garbage sprinkled around the edges but other than that, it looked serviceable. There was but a single problem.

Inching forward, Albert felt his stomach fall out from beneath him. Chains snaked it's way under and over the twin handles, a heavy duty lock sealing the way to his salvation.

"Damn."

He couldn't help but curse, it seems like his good luck truly ended here. It had surprised him at first that no one had attacked him, but now it made a lot more sense. What did it matter if he arrived somewhere safe if there was no way for him to enter?

Taking a closer look, he felt exactly how heavy the lock was and just knew this was going to be a major obstacle going forward. It required a key of sorts, which only made sense. He could brute force the lock if it was combination but now? He had no confidence in actually picking the lock. It was more likely that his attempts would either make any future attempts more difficult or impossible all together.

Letting the lock fall back in place with a heavy clanging sound, Albert stood back up to his full height and looked up at the two buildings that looked as though they would sandwich him. He idly counted the bricks as a sigh of exasperation was released.

'What am I going to do?' He thought, mind spinning,' Even if I used my talent, it's not like there would be a key anywhere in sight. And plus besides, I don't really want to stick my arm elbow deep in a pile of garbage.'

He tested the lock one more time before giving up with another audible sigh.

'Yep, still locked.' Albert stewed,' That option is out it seems.'

He knew it would be a fools errant to believe that just by jiggling the lock a bit would have any real effect, but hope is still hope at the end of the day. The only thing he lost was time and morale.

'Do I really have to start looting?'

It did leave a pretty bad taste in his mouth, especially since he had been ruthlessly judging said looters inside his head. Looking down on them for not being able to control their greed, but here he was contemplating doing the exact same thing.

'No.' He shook his head, hardening his heart,' I won't. I'll try to buy tools or help. If they aren't there, I'll leave enough money to cover anything I damage.'

Not the best solution, but it was the best he had. Albert swore not to mindlessly loot only resolved himself to take what was required.

'Bolt cutters seem like the way to go.' He thought,' But where can I find-Oh…'

His eyes fell on the overflowing dumpster nearby and didn't even try resisting the shiver of disgust that overtook him then. Those memories of being covered in liquid filth still very much fresh, the crystal clear sensation of warm sludge on his skin automatically made his gag relax activate.

'No point procrastinating…'

Wishing to save his nice trench coat from the coming torture, he gentle folded and set it to the side on the least dirty surface. Taking a few deep breathes to ready himself, he instantly regretted it as the pungent smell turn into a slight aftertaste.

Gagging and coughing to the side, Albert clenched his eyes shut in disgust and initiated Resourceful. That film suddenly contracted around his skin, only adding to the grimy feeling of trash beneath his fingers. With a squelch, his arm sunk deeper into the bin. Old forgotten food, wrappers and other...stuff.

'Yeah,' He thought hysterically,' Let's just call it 'stuff'.'

But despite now being about shoulder deep in the dumpster, there were no results. Even when he finally 'got over' his squeamishness (not), there still wasn't anything. Just as his panic and bile was rising, fearing that this would be the time that his talent would fail him, a sudden sound jolted him out of his thoughts.

Sitting, perched on the corner of the metal bin, a skinny looking black cat looked at him. Sure he was aware that cats all had this normal arrogant air about them, but he could've swore those yellow eyes in-particular were...judging him?

It was like he was caught doing something incredibly embarrassing by a classmate; an awkward acknowledgment of the other person existing before deciding swiftly to never speak again.

That kind. And normally if he was receiving that kind of look from anyone else, he would hightail it out of their without a second thought. What kind of person would go dumpster diving when everything in the city was currently having a one-hundred percent off sale?

"It's not what it looks like!"

Albert suddenly felt the urge to explain himself, feeling idiotic while doing so. This was a cat. Why did he need to do so?

With his cheeks slowly dying down in color, he took notice of a few familiar features. Lean muscles that seem more in place with some kind of predator, inky black fur, big yellow eyes and a large scar that traced from the right side of it's head ending right above it cheek.

'Not it, her?'

He did recognize the cat, having been looking for the intelligent animal ever since that day. While he knew he couldn't adopt her given his current living situation, Albert still had that soft spot for the beast. Despite being scratched.

"Hey girl.." The teen said softly, fearing any sudden moves would make the animal bolt," What are you doing here?"

Of course the alley cat didn't answer. It didn't possess the necessarily vocal chords. She only continued staring at the dirty youth, silent and still like a predator before pouncing.

"I don't have any food," He continued, extricating his arms with a disgust squelch," But I'm sure there will be plenty in the coming days."

Indeed, with the butchers and other food based stores now completely unguarded it wouldn't be hard to see that the local alley cats and stray dogs would be eating good for the next week. Whether because they were broken into or because they had to throw out any meat they had because of complications

Either way, eating would be good for them.

In response to his words, the cat only turn her back on him. Ignoring his existence altogether. Her tail twitching slightly. Only then did he notice a piece of paper she was sitting on. A bad feeling began to well up inside as the pungent smell of filth made itself known.

'I need a bath.'

His arms were, frankly, filthy. Covered in trash and sludge, he just knew the smell wouldn't be going away anytime soon.

"Hey." Albert called, feeling stupid all the way," What do you have there?"

The alley cat in question looked at him over her shoulder before kicking the paper out from under her. Snatching the flying sheet out of the hair, he read through the flier.

'Locksmith Darnell Francis. Open 6 AM to 8 PM. Monday through Friday. Prices may vary.'

"Thank you."

He said to the lounging cat, ignoring how insane he must look. This was exactly what he needed, he just wished it had appeared before delving shoulder deep in a disgusting dumpster.

'They have to have bolt cutters, right?'

Now that he had a location in mind, it gave him plenty of ammunition to push back the smell from his mind. But first, a debt must be paid. And unlike before, the one who gave him aid is currently hunched right before him.

"The streets will get a lot more dangerous over the next day or so." Albert spoke out into the void, know that she could somewhat understand him," If you're still here by the time I get back, then you're more than welcome to ride this out inside that shelter."

To emphasize his point, he pointed at the dual metal doors across from them. The only real response that she even heard him was the slight twitch of the ears. But other than that movement, she just continued grooming herself without a care in the world.

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It really hadn't taken Albert long to find the shop, having only required a ten minute walk back the direction he came. Nestle between two apartment buildings, a single cement shack laid. It was like someone thought it was a great idea to connect the two buildings through a long hallway only for inspectors to come down heavily on their heads due to security reasons.

And instead, they turned the failed project into a store for the maintenance man. He had actually passed by the shop multiple times before finally stumbling across it.

'Locksmith.'

The words were painted across the bland front, the only thing that added any real character to the building were the sets of metal bars over the windows that made it seem more like a prison. In his old life, he would've been long gone if anywhere he went had bars over the windows. But this was Gotham, such a sight in less urbanize districts was the norm.

He didn't know what to expect when entering the nondescript shop, it was preferred to come across an empty room. But it was quite shock indeed to come face to face with twin entrances to the abyss itself.

"What do you want boy?"

A cold, gruff voice demanded. They sounded old and weathered, having experienced the tough truths of the world. Every hair stood up over Albert's body, knowing the man wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet between his brows. Raising both hands up, he tried to stammer out an explanation.

"I need some help."

"Yeah." The man snorted, shotgun still in place," You and everyone else in this damned city."

"I need bolt cutters."

Albert finally said, not seeing a reason to hide that fact.

"For what?" The man sneered, bushy eyebrows narrowed in disgust," Looting?"

"No!" The youth denied quickly, sensing the sudden change in the room," I need them to break a heavy padlock."

"That ain't helping."

"It's to a storm shelter."

He said quickly, hearing threat in the man's voice. He silently cursed at himself, he should've scouted the place out first before just waltzing in like the city wasn't getting ready to burn. Maybe if his own gun was out, he could afford to keep some cards to himself but that option was long gone now.

Rule one of getting a gun being pointed in your direction, give them anything they want. Especially if you're not some kind of specialist or meta human.

"A shelter?" The man quirked a brow in confusion," I sure hope you ain't pulling my leg?"

"No I'm not," Albert tried to reason with the old man," I'm just looking for a way in, I swear."

"How did you find out about my shop?"

"I found this flier in a dumpster nearby."

He then raised the clenched flier in his hand, showing him the dirty piece of paper. Honestly, he just hoped this was enough to not find himself bleeding out of the floor.

"Fine." The old man said, setting the shotgun off to side but well within reach. Allowing the teen to visibly slump in relief. The sweat he hadn't noticed, stung as it entered his eye.

He suddenly felt extremely tired, the adrenal that was probably responsible for keeping him so calm and not a blubbering mess now slowly leaving his body. Aches he hadn't noticed made themselves know and honestly, the need to crash somewhere for a few hours was almost too much. But judging from the old man's harsh look, he wouldn't have the chance to yet.

Now that a gun wasn't being pointed in his direction, he could finally get a better look at the sun tanned man. It was wrong to call him old, as without the specter of death hovering over him, he looked to be middle-aged at the most. Short, blonde hair with light streaks of gray. And a white t-shirt stretched slightly under a the pressure of a beer gut.

Normally such a homeless appearance wouldn't conjured such a feeling of dread, but it was those eyes. Hard, steel-like brown eyes that seemed to have witnessed the darkest parts of humanity and came out on top.

Albert could only hold back an audible gulp as those same vicious looking orbs stared at him with heavy suspicion and expectations. And if he didn't suspect a series of buck-shots being pumped into his back, he would've fled into the chaotic streets without a care.

"Well?" The man barked, irritation prevalent in his tone," Out with it! I don't have all day!"

Scurrying forward, Albert quickly explained his current situation. At least a more simplified version and under it all, the man only listened silently. Hard gaze scanning over his frazzled appearance, searching for weak points in his story.

"And that's why I need bolt cutters."

He felt like he needed some water after that long and breathy explanation, who would've thought stress would make someone thirsty. Then the teen just stood in silence as a series of emotions fluttered across the man's face.

"No."

He said after a bit of silence, scratching at the reappearing bits of hair on his cheek. His words were like a hammer blow to Albert's hopes. Shattering them like a piece of glass. All this work and running, for nothing.

'I can always shoot the padlock..'

While he didn't want to draw attention to himself, waste any bullets or leave signs of his location, it looked like that was his only option. Less he can breaks into every store until he finds a set of bolt cutters.

"We'll need to lock the shelter from the inside," He declared, rummaging around behind the old desk," No reason to destroy a perfectly good lock."

"We?"

Albert couldn't help but ask re-flexibly, feeling like he had developed whiplash from the repeated twists. Honestly, he didn't know how much longer his mind could these unexpected ups and downs.

"Yes we." The man snorted," The city is about to devolve into chaos, I'm not staying up top any longer than I need to."

'Sure just invite yourself over…'

"Let me make a quick phone call and you can lead me there." The man continued, finally pulling out a simple landline. It was a stout red device with the classic rotary dial instead, that reminded Albert a lot of those old black and white detective movies.

'I really need to get me one of those.'

He could already imagine leaning back in his own detective agency, wearing a trench coat and a fedora covering his face as he snoozes away the day. That classy jazz playing softly in the background.

"Hey," The man's gruff smoker's voice broke him out of his weird daydreams and back into reality," It's Darnell. I'll be back in ten minutes, I found a place to lie low at. If you two don't have somewhere to go, be ready."

'Yeah, go ahead and invite more people..'

"Come on."

Darnell hobbled his self from behind the desk, carrying a tool set in one hand and that shotgun in the other. He didn't even stand too much taller than Albert, but still emanated a sense of danger far outstripping anything he could. Not seeing any other choice, the teen led the sour man back to the shelter. Silently grumbling the whole way.

Surprising enough, despite the growing number of looters they didn't bother them in the slightest. Whether it was because they knew the middle-aged man or the double barrel gun he had in the crook of his shoulder. Whatever the case, Albert was glad of it.

And with the added deterrent known as Darnell, it actually took them less than five minutes to reach the location.

Looking around, Albert would be lying if he didn't admit that he felt a bit downtrodden that the helpful feline was nowhere in sight. Her black coat and intelligence yellow eyes far gone where ever in this city.

"You know how to use that thing?"

Darnell asked, bringing the teen out of his sudden funk. It took him a bit to realize the man was pointing at the left side of his trench-coat.

"..Yeah."

He admitted hesitantly, not expecting him to so easily spot it. Another card so easily revealed.

"Good." The man snorted, noticing his uneasy expression," Make sure no one sneaks up on us, I don't want a shot in the back while doing this."

"Okay."

Albert replied, turning his full attention to the alleyway entrance. Well most of his attention anyway, the sound of metal being tapped and clanking. But besides that, the man didn't even let out a grunt of exertion as he expertly worked on the heavy duty lock.

'A small look won't hurt, right?'

After sending one more prodding glance at the mouth of the alley, he peeked around his shoulder at the man's work. And frankly, he was glad he did. The man's hands were dung deep in his toolbox and a differing array of items were laid out before him.

While Albert didn't recognize a lot of the tools, he did take note of an old looking hammer that was propped up next to the shelter doors.

With a grumble, the man whipped out a long metal item that narrowed down into a tip with a variety of 'teeth' on it.

In one fluid motion, Darnell jammed the tool into the lock before hitting the bottom of it with that trusty hammer of his. With an audible click, he caught the now tumbling heavy padlock from the air.

A single tired grumble was the only response from the older man as he clicked the lock back over his belt.

'Damn..'

While Albert wouldn't have tried to lock himself inside, it was rather disheartening that that particular plan was no longer on the table. Plus besides thinking it over more, it would've been a terrible plot. Not only would he isolate the only 'ally' that could actually physically help him through this, but also he had no idea if the shelter was stocked up with the essentials like food and water. So if he had been stupid enough to back-stab the man and lock himself in, then he most likely would've died down there.

Just thinking of that possibility, slowly wasting away as his stomach ate at his nerves, thirst burning in semblance of moisture, his bodily functions systemically shutting down before falling into eternal rest, made him involuntarily shiver. While he was sure such a death would leave behind a ghost or specter, he didn't really want to put his friends through that.

And to top it off, if he wanted any kind of help getting out it would STILL require the aid of the same man he betrayed. Not ideal.

So maybe it was good for everyone if the man took the padlock with him…

"I'll be back in a few." Darnell grunted, taking his shotgun in hand," Could you take my toolkit down? We're going to need to get out."

"Sure."

"Oh." He paused, looking the teen dead in the eyes," These people that's going to joining us.."

'That you invited..'

"Yeah..?"

"They're," The older man scratched at his scruffy looking beard while continuing," Good people who made bad decisions in the past. While they might not be the most popular of people, do try to treat them civilly. You don't have to make friends with them or nothing but these next couple of days are suck without everyone being at each-others neck. So please, just give them a chance."

"..I can try."

Albert replied after a beat, feeling a sinking sensation hit him suddenly. Mind spinning with all the different possibilities.

"Good." He nodded, kicking the shelter doors wide open as he passed," I'll be back then."

Having a feel that he would absolutely be needing both arms here and a moment later, that was answered easily enough. The box was heavy and clunky, the weight unevenly distributing made any effort on his part twice as difficult.

The metal handle practically burned in his hand as he crab-walked closer to the now unlocked entrance, it's wide open doors acting more as a maw. Begging, hoping for any dumb enough to plunge into it's depths. To sink beneath those dark waves and submit themselves to that inky blackness.