Note: I put the publication date wrong again.
Lucky I checked it on my phone (shouldn’t be doing it, I am at work 😬 ).
Anyway, chapter is free in the wild now.
The day of the president’s visit finally arrived.
The mayor of Gotham deployed enough police officers to invade a small country and even the local supervillains took the day off.
Barricades blocked half the major streets, helicopters circled overhead, and uniformed officers stood on practically every corner along the presidential route.
The local news had spent the entire day alternating between footage of the motorcade, interviews with excited citizens, and increasingly dramatic speculation about whether the KGBeast would attempt another attack.
As far as Mattheus knew, this was the end of the Beast’s short reign of terror.
Batman would stop him tonight or had already stopped him.
Mattheus wasn’t sure how closely events followed the comics, and the news had been repeating the same useless information for hours.
According to the anchors, the president was safe, the authorities had everything under control, and citizens should remain alert without becoming alarmed.
In other words, they knew nothing.
Still, nothing had exploded, no assassinations had been announced, and Gotham remained more or less the same.
A successful presidential visit by local standards.
Five minutes before midnight, the Crossroads was empty.
The last group of customers had left a couple of minutes earlier, leaving behind three empty beer glasses, a generous collection of crumpled napkins, and enough crumbs beneath their table to feed a family of mice.
Mattheus had already turned off the television and was sitting on a stool behind the counter, taking advantage of the peace to read.
The Curse of the Arkhams was a popular history of the Arkham family and the asylum that bore their name.
It covered everything from Amadeus Arkham’s childhood to the institution’s construction, the murder of his wife and daughter, his descent into madness, and the long list of tragedies that had followed the family across generations.
It was fascinating—very depressing, but fascinating.
The author leaned rather heavily into the idea that the Arkhams were cursed.
While the notion sounded a bit ridiculous, Mattheus found it difficult to dismiss outright.
This was a universe where demons and gods existed, ancient artifacts regularly drove people insane, and being exposed to the wrong chemical spill could transform someone into a supervillain.
A family curse was almost mundane.
Mattheus turned the page.
The front door opened.
He looked up from the book and saw Robin enter the pub.
Jason was wearing his uniform, though it looked in considerably better shape than it had during his previous visit.
“Good evening,” Mattheus said.
Jason gave him a grunt that could have meant hello, fuck off, or both at once.
He closed the door behind him and crossed the pub with all the enthusiasm of someone walking toward his own execution.
Mattheus glanced at the clock and nearly sighed.
11:55 p.m.
He had been moments away from closing.
Jason dropped onto one of the stools and looked up at the chalkboard on one of the walls.
BURGER, FRIES & DRINK — 15 $
“I’ll have the burger,” Jason said.
Mattheus’s eyebrow flew upward.
There were few things more irritating than someone entering an establishment five minutes before closing and ordering food.
Any person who had ever worked in a bar or restaurant understood that such customers belonged to a particularly inconsiderate branch of humanity.
Fortunately for the kid, he was Jason Todd so Mattheus would let it pass.
Besides, he hadn’t cleaned the kitchen yet.
No harm done.
“One burger coming up.”
He marked his place in the book, set it beneath the counter, and went into the kitchen.
The grill was still warm, so the order didn’t take long.
Mattheus shaped the ground beef into a thick patty, seasoned it, and placed it onto the hot surface.
While it cooked, he prepared the bun and added a portion of fries to the fryer.
A few minutes later, he returned carrying a burger topped with cheese, bacon, caramelized onions, lettuce, tomato, and house sauce.
A generous pile of fries occupied the other half of the plate.
He set it in front of Jason.
“What do you want to drink?”
“A beer.”
Mattheus stared at him, and Jason examined the taps with great seriousness.
“Moretti sounds good.”
Mattheus continued staring.
Jason looked back at him without the slightest hint of shame.
“No.”
“You asked what I wanted.”
“And now I’m giving you an opportunity to choose something you’re legally allowed to drink.” Mattheus gestured toward the refrigerator.
“Coke, lemonade, ginger ale, orange soda, Dr Pepper, sparkling water…”
Jason sighed.
“Dr Pepper.”
“Excellent choice.”
Mattheus retrieved a cold can, opened it, and placed it beside the plate.
Jason picked up the burger with both hands and took a large bite.
For the next several minutes, he ate in silence.
Mattheus let him.
The teenager looked tired rather than injured.
His shoulders were tense, his jaw remained clenched between bites, and he attacked the fries with enough force to make their deaths seem personal.
Whatever had happened tonight, Jason was not in the mood to chat so Mattheus returned to his book.
The chapter examined Elizabeth Arkham’s efforts to treat mental illness during a period when the preferred medical solution to most problems had been locking the patient in a room and hoping they stopped screaming, or running electricity through their brain and hoping for the best.
Cheerful reading before bed.
Jason glanced at the cover between bites.
“The Curse of the Arkhams?”
Mattheus looked up.
“You’ve read it?”
“Some of it.
The author’s full of shit.”
“How so?”
“He makes it sound like every Arkham who ever stubbed their toe was another victim of an ancient family curse.”
“He does have a flair for the dramatic.”
“A flair for making things up.”
“That too.”
Jason took another bite of his burger.
Mattheus closed the book around one finger.
“Still, you have to admit the family has experienced an unreasonable amount of tragedy.”
“So has everyone in Gotham.”
“Fair point.”
If someone told Mattheus that Gotham itself was cursed, he would have found that easy to believe.
Hell, maybe it was.
Mattheus vaguely remembered something about an eldritch god beneath the city, and—nope.
He was not going down that particular rabbit hole
“Besides half of them were rich assholes who spent their lives marrying their cousins.
You don’t need a curse to explain what happened.”
Mattheus considered that.
“Generations of untreated mental illness, trauma, isolation, and inbreeding?”
“Pretty much.”
He looked down at the family tree printed across the open pages.
As far as he remembered, Martha Wayne had been an Arkham in at least one continuity.
Flashpoint, he thought—in that reality, Bruce had died in Crime Alley while Thomas Wayne became Batman and Martha lost her mind and became the Joker.
A thoroughly depressing universe, even by DC standards.
In most continuities, however, Martha was a Kane, which made Kate Kane—Batwoman—Bruce Wayne’s cousin.
On this Earth, she had been Martha Kane.
Mattheus had checked.
His knowledge had become much less useful since arriving here.
Some things matched the comics he remembered, others belonged to completely different continuities, and more than a few appeared to be unique to this world.
It was like someone had taken decades of DC history, thrown everything into a blender, and poured the result over Gotham.
Mattheus continued reading.
Jason finished half the burger before speaking again.
“You always close at midnight?”
“Yes.”
“Every night?”
“Unless I close early for some reason.” Mattheus shrugged.
Jason nodded and reached for his drink.
Mattheus watched him for a moment.
“Why?”
“No reason.”
“Did you come by after midnight?”
Jason took a long drink of Dr Pepper.
“That isn’t a no.”
“I came past once.”
Mattheus smiled.
“And found the door locked?”
“Obviously.”
“Poor Robin.
Wandering Gotham alone in the night, cold and hungry, only to discover his favorite pub had abandoned him.”
“This isn’t my favorite pub.”
“You have visited three times.”
“Twice.”
“You came by another night, so three times.”
Jason scowled.
“Finding the door locked doesn’t count.”
“It counts to me.”
“You didn’t even know I was here.”
“And yet I feel terrible about it.
Truly.” He put a hand over his heart for dramatic effect.
Jason gave him the finger and returned to his burger.
Mattheus chuckled, and silence settled between them again.
Jason continued eating, though some of the anger had left him.
Mattheus pretended to read for another minute before lowering the book.
“So, why are you so gloomy?”
“I’m not gloomy.”
Mattheus raised an eyebrow.
“I’m always like this.”
“That is a little sad.”
Jason glared at him, and Mattheus raised one hand.
“Something happened?” Mattheus asked.
“If you can tell me, that is.”
Jason looked down at the remaining fries and stayed silent for several seconds, long enough that Mattheus thought that was his answer.
Then Jason muttered, “Batman’s an asshole.”