Chapter 6: The Story
"That must've been the summer I turned seven," Marcus Dean began. "My parents took me hiking in the mountains. I was a fearless kid back then—loved walking along the most dangerous cliffs and ledges. I had great balance. Navigating those narrow trails was second nature to me."
"We made it halfway up the mountain. A light rain had started to fall, but that didn't stop me—I stepped onto a suspended natural stone bridge just like I always did. I still remember the ridgelines undulating through the mist, how the rainwater streamed down the slopes, gathering into dozens of tiny rivulets. They danced between rocks like mischievous sprites, cascading down the cliffs before merging into a roaring river below—"
"Stop, stop right there." Drex raised a hand with a frown, cutting Marcus off. "We're not Sherlock Holmes, and you're not Watson. There's no need for the poetic monologue—just get to the point."
"I kinda liked it," said Lady Camilla with a smile, patting Drex's shoulder. "Mr. Dean does have a flair for storytelling."
"Well, long story short: I fell off a cliff and landed in a cave."
Marcus promptly stripped all embellishment from the tale. "Inside the cave was Santa Claus, roasting a reindeer over a fire. He told me that if I shared the story of how I ended up in that cave with someone, that person would be cured of all illness. Then he hopped on the remaining eight reindeer and flew off."
"…"
Lady Camilla's smile vanished. "Marcus Dean. I'm a Christian."
"Oh—sorry." Marcus shrugged. "At least now we know Santa's real."
"Huh?"
Drex instinctively turned to look at Camilla—and then his pupils shrank sharply.
Marcus sat back, crossed one leg over the other, and started humming a tune. A strange sense of calm washed over him.
"New buds sprout on the old tree out front, the deadwood in the yard blooms again~"
Fine golden strands began sprouting from Camilla's once-bald scalp, like willow shoots in early spring. Within seconds, a cascade of golden hair fell past her waist. Her withered frame began to fill out, regaining the graceful curves of a young woman. Pale, sagging skin grew taut and flushed with vibrant color—it no longer looked sickly at all.
Drex could only watch as the woman who had suffered for years—his wife—transformed before his eyes, becoming once again the radiant beauty he'd fallen in love with.
So beautiful… Just like the first time I saw her.
Camilla stared at her own hands—now smooth, white, unblemished—and instinctively touched the golden locks draped over her shoulder. She leaned silently against Drex, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"So many things I've kept inside for half a lifetime—"
Marcus kept humming softly, singing lyrics neither of them recognized. Drex held his wife tightly, speechless.
She had stayed with him through it all—through the hair loss, the wasting away, the dulling of her face, the decay of her body.
And he had stayed with her—through losing his job, selling their house, draining every last cent. Through agony, despair, and breakdown.
She'd almost given up, she thought. Just barely… she'd almost let go.
Good thing we didn't, he thought. Thank God I didn't give up.
There goes my first miracle charge, Marcus mused. Drex better land me a decent job for this.
The Next Day
"So, Drex. How long have you and your wife been in Gotham?" Marcus asked.
"Almost a year. Why?"
"You waited an entire year for Victor?"
"Eight months, to be exact. Eight months later, Dr. Victor Fries disappeared in that accident. I've been trying to contact the companies he used to work with, but they folded fast—too fast. So lately I've been tracking leads on Mr. Freeze."
"Lucky for you, you didn't find him."
Marcus shrugged. "Since you've been around for a year, you've probably made a few connections, yeah?"
Drex instantly understood the implication. "I'll try to find you something for outsiders—relatively safe. But you need to understand, in Gotham, there's no such thing as truly clean work. If you want to survive here, you have to throw morality out the window. It's all about survival."
"That's a problem," Marcus sighed. "Physically, I'm not cut out for murder and arson. Intellectually and skill-wise, I'd probably get caught trying to steal or scam someone. I've got no interest in cozying up to some gangland sugar mommy with a machete fetish, and it's not like my trashy writing's gonna make me any money in this town—"
"Okay, okay, stop." Drex waved his hand. After Marcus's first two comments, Drex's mental list of options had already been halved. By the end of the sentence, he was down to three.
"Let me confirm," Drex said, trying to phrase it diplomatically. "Do you have any skills besides writing?"
"Driving. Counting." Marcus tilted his head. "That's about it."
"Housekeeping? Cooking?"
Marcus gave a polite but sheepish smile. "Enough to keep myself alive. Barely."
"…"
They stared at each other in a long, awkward silence before Drex finally asked, "You got any money?"
"If I did, why would I be looking for work?"
"…Wanna try your luck in that cave again? See if Santa's still hiring?"
Realizing his demands were a bit much, Marcus coughed twice in embarrassment. "Ahem. As long as the job's relatively safe, I'll take it."
Drex mulled it over for a moment… then something clicked. "How about waiting tables?"
"No problem!"
Seeing Marcus agree so quickly, Drex finally exhaled. "Gotham's not like other cities. Every business, big or small, is under mob control. Some are even run directly by them. Over the past year, I've made a few connections—I might be able to get you a spot in a restaurant. It's not glamorous, but it could give you a foothold. Just know, whatever job you take here, it'll have some kind of mob ties."
"As long as they don't ask me to carry a machete, or threaten me with one while I'm serving food, I can handle the rest."
At that, Drex snapped his fingers and pulled out his phone. "Then it's settled."
Riiiiing—Riiiiing—
"…Hello?"
It rang for a full two minutes before someone finally picked up. A gruff voice came through the speaker. "Drex. What do you want?"
BANG!
Marcus flinched. The gunshot on the other end was crystal clear.
(End of Chapter)