*Malcom POV*
*Location: Gotham City, New Jersey*
*Date: January 1st, 2002*
The first day of the new year, a time to live it up, a time to celebrate all that is to come and all that came. To think of a way to better oneself and to live a better life, seeing if you could make yourself better...either that or gettign shitfaced drunk for one reason or another. Personally, I was a fan of that last option, seeing as I was currently wrapping up my badly burnt skin once more. One of the countless things that went wrong ever since coming into this reality.
Most people think that when you travel between dimensions, universes, or whatever you call it is seamless/painless. Well, unlike those lucky few, I was burned alive to the point I thought I'd pass out from pain or have a heart attack. Nope, I was lucky enough to come through with enough cash and other shit to buy some clothes, a half-torn-down building, and other shit. Sure, most would call that lucky, except you have to remember one thing: this was Gotham, and well, when I went through that portal, I was gifted with both magic and knowledge.
So, combine these two things, and you can instantly sense the darkness, the corruption, and every other metaphysical nasty thing in it. This place was quite literally cursed, with no way to undo it, at least no way in my new playbook. Now, normally, people would think that I hit the Jackpot, that I was just an asshole, or baby, or whatever you want to call me. That was the problem, though; nothing ever came for free, and well, if the Universe gives you enough signs of trouble brewing, more so than usual, you pay attention.
I didn't start off as a private investigator *cough* unlicensed *cough* I just made my living by turning lead into gold, whenever I could get away scott-free that is. Didn't want any of the local gangs or mobs to get wind of my little gift, that or the government, which in all honesty would probably lead to all three or some combination of them, considering where I was now living with no viable ID. No, that came about later when I encountered...one of those lantern-monster-things. That's when I learned I wasn't alone when I came here.
The Dread Powers, The Gods of Fear, and Things that were/are fears, things that were just as fictional as DC was in my old reality. Over time, thanks to the universe sending me messages, well, at least I think it was, I was able to learn that all fifteen were here, clinging to this new reality like a leech on an open wound.
Fear of small spaces, suffocation, and being buried alive, The Buried.
Fear of revulsion, feeling of disgust, and everything that invoked it, The Corruption.
Fear of the dark, the unseen, and all the creatures that remained unseen, The Dark.
Fear of pain, loss, burning, and destruction, The Destolation
Fear of death itself and that everything must end eventually, The End.
Fear of being watched, exposed, followed, and secrets being exposed, The Eye.
Fear of both animals being slaughtered for their meat and bred only for it, and that humans were nothing more than a pile of flesh, The Flesh.
Fear of being chased or hunted, the primordial fear of being nothing more than prey, The Hunt.
Fear of isolation, cut off, and disconnected from society, The Lonely.
Fear of pure, unpredictable, and unmotivated violence and random acts of pain, The Slaughter.
Fear of madness, the world being wrong, and your mind lying to even you, The Spiral.
Fear of the unknown, the uncanny, and the unfamiliar, The Stranger.
Fear of heights, falling, and large open spaces, The Vast.
Fear of being controlled or trapped, unaware of it, and being forced to do things against one's will, The Web.
Fear of catastrophic change, destruction of both nature and humanity, of being replaced, The Extinction.
Each of them makes their claim, spreading artifacts of great power and of great fear to feed themselves. To not repeat the mistakes that led them to this new reality, and instead simply, to grow in power and find new avatars, found new cults to help feed themselves and gorge themselves on a universe full of new mortals for them. Was I insane? Probably, almost definitely, you don't go through something that I did without losing a few screws.
Even as I wrapped the last of my bandages and stared at myself in the mirror, at my white trench coat, and the bandages covering every bit of me except for the eyes, mouth, and nose. I just sighed as I grabbed a Sharpie and began redrawing a few sigils on my banages, stuff that wouldn't fade even when you consider the material I used for it, just your basic protection runes and things that helped notify me of danger, just your everyday essentials when living in Gotham.
That and a few strength-based spells alongside durability to make sure I didn't die to a random mugging, or well, literally anything else. Either way, as I put the last bits of my symbols on me, I felt a wave of exhaustion that left just as quickly as the Sharpie-made symbols faded, the magic seeping into my bandages, which should be good for the next week or two, depending on well...if Gotham wants to be normal, crappy or extra.
Getting up, I dusted my coat off and tugged at the collar a few times, making sure nothing was ruffled. I mean, I may live in a run-down building, but that doesn't mean I have to match. People around here already think I'm crazy, considering he fact that I pretty much advertise my magical services, sometimes it helps drum up some business, most of the time though, whoever entered that door was one of three types of Gothamites, the addicts, homeless, or some kid who was dared to enter the 'bandaged man's' home. Yup, got my own legend and everything, doesn't help that I scare them off with a bit of help from an illusion or two.
Entering well, I called it my office area, but in reality, it was just the most stable part of the building that I used as a makeshift office. Didn't have anything overall fancy or anything like that, just an old secondhand desk I had to clean quite a bit, that and a filing cabinet, with a few folders in it, not a lot, but it was a start. Although one of the downsides of this whole setup was that it was pretty much near the entrance, and the doors didn't lock, if the rooms had doors at all.
So standing right at the doorway was a confused man wearing a tattered black trench coat and old gray gloves. I squinted as I examined them, walking into the room, much to their surprise, which also let me get a good look at their face. The guy was probably in his early to mid-30s, had a stubble beard either because he was trying to grow one or he just hadn't shaved in a while, and a scar over his left eye.
"Usually don't get clients on a holiday, nor at this time of night, take a city, Mr...?"
As he sat down, I saw that he did have a wool hat and was currently fiddling with it, probably nervous for one reason or another.
"You can drop the Mr, I'm just Wallace, Wallace Jones. I work down at the docks near the sewer entrance." He said as he put his hand, waiting for me to shake it.
I happily did so as I took my seat across from him and got a file labeled with a P, alongside a notebook and pen to write with.
"Good to meet you, Wallace, although I have to say the usual clients I get are people with little to no options left or the occasional prankster, don't suppose you're willing to break that?"
He just sighed, and I could already guess this was going to be another guy who had no other option. Not that I was going to turn him away; any business related to the fifteen entities was welcomed, as well as the regular business. Although most of the time I got jobs unrelated to them, I digress.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but well... I'm just one of the guys who've run out of options, see the sewers...the sewers have been loud lately."
"See, we get homeless down there every once in a while, ya know, during the winter or summer months, good place to get warm or get some shade."
"Recently, though, things have been getting...strange, and I don't mean Gotham strange, I mean well, you're kind of strange, whatever that is."
I stopped writing for a moment and looked at him, wondering what he meant by that.
"Oh-Oh, I don't mean that in a 'you're crazy' kind of thing, I actually heard about you from a buddy of mine, you did a job for a few months, something about a mirror or something like that?"
"Sorry, can't really think straight, haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately."
Hearing that, I went back to writing a few of the case details, happy to hear that my expertise was spreading over Gotham. Even if it was probably being taken with a grain of salt or as an urban legend, as long as I got clients like this guy to come see me, well, I can find more signs of the entities and hopefully stop them from further spreading their influence.
"It's fine, Wallace, just keep going. What made you come here instead of saying to the police or someone else? What sort of strange things did you see down there?" I said as I twirled my pen.
"Yeah, I mean, I tried to get some of the more...nice officers to help me search for them, but whenever we looked down there we couldn't find any trace of them, not even some hair or clothes, or anything like that."
"I mean, I know it's the sewers and all that, but that's another strange thing, it didn't reek, like you'd normally think, no, it smelled like nothing."
"Eventually, they just stopped going down there, but well, I kept on going, doing everything I could to find them."
"Problem is that something... something happened down there, and well, here you can take a look." He then rolled up his sleeve, and what I saw shocked me.
It was green scales, it was growing out of him rapidly, and I could tell that Wallace here was scratching it constantly, I mean, who could blame him? Bet it itched like crazy, and I'm guessing it was extremmly painful as well. Now that I saw it, I could see bits growing on his neck. I did my best not to look disgusted at it; it wasn't the poor guy's fault, but still, bits of his skin were starting to rot or fall off entirely to make room for this new stuff.
"See, I always had this skin condition; people thought I looked like I had crocodile skin in the right light, but I got some stuff to help keep it under control."
"Been getting worse lately, and well, I'm all out of options, so I'm hoping you could help me out, figure out what's happening down there."
That's when I stopped writing as I finally realized both who I was talking to and the fact that an entity was now blatantly showing itself. First, I was talking to the Killer Croc of this reality, or the guy who would become Killer Cro somehow eventually, or had the possibility of doing so. For the entity, though, I had two options: first was The Corruption, as the sewers were the perfect hunting ground for it; The Dark or Spiral could work as well, but I was leaning toward The Corruption; either way, I had to go down and see for myself.
"Well, Wallace, we might have a case, but theirs just a matter of one last thing-" I was interrupted before I could finish as Wallace hastily took out, I think about $40 in total.
"I know it isn't much, but please-" I stopped him as I put my palm up I took the money out of his hands and put it in my coat pocket.
"Don't worry, Wallace, this is enough, just don't go spreading around a rumor that I'm cheap, because you were right, this is exactly my type of strange."
I then got up and went over to the door, motioning him to follow, and I heard him slowly get up from eh chair, and I believe put on his hat.
"So let's go see what manner of supernatural creature we're dealing with."