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Red Hood’s headquarters, which was bestowed the name Hoodquarters by the henchmen, masqueraded as a dingy coffee shop. Hood had deliberately made it dusty and crusty with mismatched furniture and cement floors.
Unfortunately, Hood’s innate appreciation of art had seeped through and the coffee shop had blossomed into a hipster favorite.
They now did all their plotting in the basement.
Larry was waiting outside Hood’s office. Hood was currently on a call, and Larry was too valuable to shoot, so he was snooping.
“I read the thing you sent me yesterday. The Alchemist,” said Hood, falsely casual.
The other person pushed their chair back, “Shut up. Shut up. That’s one of my favorites.”
Hood injected a smile into his voice, “Oh I know.”
“I slept for eight hours last night. I’m now filled with whimsy and love.”
This was slightly concerning to Larry, who always got his hot girl nine hours.
Hood said, “Love for The Alchemist?”
“Love for The Alchemist. What time did you finish?”
“Four A.M.,” Hood said proudly.
“God! Isn’t it so good,” replied the other person
“I wanted to throw up in my mouth. It went so fucking hard.”
There was a pause. “Larry should be here soon, I have to go,” Hood said.
“Mmm, ok. I’ll send you more later. Bye,” said the other voice.
“Bye, bitch boy.”
Larry took this as his cue to knock. Hood beckoned him in.
Hood’s office was organized if your priorities were insane. His books were pristine behind him, like keys on a piano. The floor was swept, and his burgundy rug matched his coasters. This contrasted greatly with the 17 guns that lived on the floor, the chairs, and in the plants.
“Boss,” Larry nodded at Hood.
Hood had his feet on the table, holding his helmet in an outstretched hand. Larry was once again filled with the sneaking suspicion that Hood was a theater kid.
Hood looked from his helmet to Larry, “I have a new job for you.”
Larry grunted.
“Black Mask is making some moves I’m not partial to,” he leaned forward. “I want you to plan a raid.”
Hood opened the right desk drawer and pulled out a map. He pointed to a crossroad, “On the corner of Barn and Fraser, there’s a warehouse. It contains his newest shipment of product, which is rumored to be cut with something. Whatever it’s cut with is supposed to be some nasty shit, we need to figure out what it is.”
Larry contemplated for a moment, “How many boys?”
“Eight.”
“Is one of them Perry?”
“Yes”
“I’ll need nine, then.”
“Done. I expect the plan in two days.”
___
Larry opened the door to his apartment. It was in a safe area of Crime Alley, which was an oxymoron.
“Harold, the documentary on the early Cretaceous period is premiering tonight. If you’d be amicable,” a voice said from the living room.
Larry, who wasn’t even called Harold by his own mother, replied, “The on your art is in?”
Rafael nodded, “Indeed.”
“No shit! What time is it on?”
“Half seven,” Rafael responded.
“Y’know Raf, you’re a bonafide master. Like Leanardo, or Da Vinci, or-”
“Harold,” Rafael cut him off, “it’s okay that you don’t know any Renaissance artists, you can stop listing Ninja Turtles.”
Larry blushed and half recovered. “Y’know what? I’m educated! I know things. I took Algebra 2!”
Larry threw up his hands and shushed Rafael before he could say, “That’s a required class.”
“In fact,” he pointed at him, “Red Hood gave me a book recommendation today.”
Rafael raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s called The Alchemist , and apparently it’s so good, he stayed up until 4 A.M. reading it.”
Rafael conceded, “Okay.” He took out his phone and started clicking buttons. “There, I’ve checked it out from the library as a digital text. Oh, I sure hope you don’t prefer physical, this was the best I could do on such short notice.”
His sickly sweet voice and pouted lips didn’t beguile Larry. Most of the time. At least 30% of the time.
Larry opened and closed his mouth like a fucked up metronome. “Fine,” he said, “after I clean the fish tank.”
___
Larry was kindly situated in his bed, which was in turn kindly situated on his floor. Larry lacked a bed frame and wall decor, despite his wealth of funds, his only piece of furniture was a 20 gallon fish tank that housed a school of pea puffers.
He had tried once to put a poster of the Gotham Knights up, but he couldn’t find a hammer and instead used a can of cream of mushroom soup. Rafael gave him such a horrified look that he gave up immediate.
He fished his phone out of his sheets and pulled up the book. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho greeted him in a swirling font. He swiped to the next page.
He was ten pages in and reading about some punk ass bitch named Santiago when Rafael knocked on his door.
“Wazzup,” Larry said.
Rafael poked his head in. His eyebrows said damn bitch, you live like this? And his eyes said damn girl, I am bewildered and in awe of your lack of respect for the conventions of standard English! His mouth said, “The program is on in nine minutes.”
Fuck Santiago, it was dinosaur time.
___
They sat on the couch an appropriate three inches apart. Scandalously Rafael leaned in, “The Cretaceous period contained hadrosaurs.”
Larry looked at Rafael, “No shit!”
“I assume you’ll be pleased by some of the illustrations then,” Rafael looked back.
“You- you drew hadrosaurs.”
Rafael hummed.
“I love hadrosaurs,” Larry continued.
“Indeed.”
“They’ve got them fucked up bills and stuffed animal feet.”
“Undoubtedly.”
They paused.
Larry nudged his shoulder, “Thanks, Raf.”
“My pleasure,” he replied.
The program started. So did a gun. Thankfully, it was a few buildings down.
“Fuck!” Larry exclaimed, he stood up. Rafael began to rise, but Larry held out a hand to stop him.
“Fuck, sorry,” he murmured, “I’m just worried about the fish. I’ll be fine, y’know, but the constant gunshots and sirens can’t be good for them.”
Larry took a few deep breaths, hands on his hips. Rafael reached out and grabbed his arm, “They’ll be ok, they are very resourceful creatures.”
A small grin blossomed on Larry's face, “Ok, ok. It's not like they can hear well anyway.” He sat down.
The TV sounded, Dinosaurs: The majestic beasts of the Cretatous period…
___
The special was over and Rafael was sleeping under his brontosaurus blanket. Larry was basking in the glow of his phone, reading The Alchemist . To his eternal dismay, he was enjoying it. Santiago was still a punk ass bitch, but the plot was engrossing.
Adventure and love and destiny seemed vivid and real and in reach to his sleep deprived mind. He could be on a journey to Egypt, he could be on that caravan, in that crystal shop. He made it to page 168 before falling asleep.
___
At 3 A.M., Larry woke up. He carried Rafael in bed, before returning to his. There, he finished the book.
___
That morning, he felt a little bit like he was on cocaine. Or like the Knights had won the World Series.
Rafael was dead asleep. Larry was vibrating out of his skin. He still managed to close the cabinets quietly.
The toaster popped. He didn’t remember putting anything in there.
Larry grabbed the bagel, throwing it from hand to hand to stave off the heat. He professionally slid it onto the counter before obtaining cream cheese and a tomato.
Some careful knife work and then bada-bing-bada-goddamn-boom, breakfast was served.
He wrapped it in a towel before gliding on his socked feet into the living room. His steel toed boots were put on one at a time. Then, Larry just had to grab his knife and his knife and his gun and his gun and his gun.
The cold air partially snapped him out of his fervor. God, he should read books more. He took a bite of his bagel, wiping cream cheese off with his sleeve.
___
The walk to work wasn’t long, just mostly unpleasant. This was characterized beautifully by the woman who just shoulder checked Larry, barreling through him.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going, lady!”
She stopped to turn back at him. “What was that?” she asked.
Larry, who was never one to half-ass a confrontation said, “Watch where you’re going, lady!”
She tilted her head and moved towards him, graceful and certain, stopping two inches away. Larry looked into her eyes, they were a dark, angry, brown.
The woman inhaled sharply, “My boss sent out an email this morning. Do you want to guess what it said? Due to “creative differences” I am being forced out of a project I've put my blood, sweat, and tears into for the past nine years. And I just learned that my apartment complex was bought by Lex Luther.”
She scoffed, coffee stained breath was all Larry could smell, “It is only,” she checked her watch, “nine in the morning, and if another thing happens to me, I am going to snap. So I dare you, tell me what you said again.”
And Larry, to his fault, could never half-ass a confrontation.
“Watch where you’re going, lady.”
Before he could move, she kicked him in the crotch. Hard. He fell, knees bruising against the unkempt sidewalk. A dirty move.
She grabbed him by the chin, “If I didn’t have to take my kid to a doctor’s appointment in 20 minutes, you’d be fucked right now.”
The woman walked away, as gracefully as she came.
Larry looked down the road. His apartment was four buildings down. Rafael was sleeping in there. He got up and sprinted the final blocks to headquarters.
___
The coffee shop had been open for a few hours already. Patrons littered the interior. So it was a great shock to everyone involved when a man in a wife beater and trench coat came charging through the doors screaming Hooood! through ragged breaths.
Larry kicked the basement doors open. One of his knives fell to the ground. He kept going until he reached Hood’s office. His self-preservation instincts kicked in, his brain compromised with his heart, and he anticlimactically pounded on the door.
He went straight in.
Hood was standing. “Larry,” he said, concerned, “what’s wrong.”
Larry was still out of breath, “I,” pant, “read,” pant , “the,” pant , “bookyouweretalkingabout.”
Hood let out an intelligent, “What?”
“The book you were talking about. The Alchemist. I read it last night. I think I need to follow my Personal Legend. And I don’t think being here will lead me to it. Y’know, like Santigo and Melchizedek and the caravan and the wind magic.”
“What,” Hood rapidly shook his head, “the ever loving fuck, are you talking about.”
Larry rushed forward, “I need to move on! To find my treasure under the tree!”
“Larry, are you- are you having a stroke?”
Larry opened his mouth.
“Wait,” Hood cut him off, “did you say The Alchemist?”
He gave some crazed nods.
Hood then said, as if speaking to a child, “Larry, I don’t know how to break this to you, but The Alchemist is a piece of Spirk fanfiction.”
“...Spirk?”
“Yes. Spirk. Spirk fanfiction.”
“What’s a Spirk?”
Hood sighed, “Spirk, y’know like Kirk and Spock. Star Trek. The power couple that invented modern fandom?”
“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Larry said dejectedly.
Hood walked up to Larry, and put his hands on his shoulders, “I’ve never read The Alchemist, or at least, not the one you’re talking about.”
“Oh.”
Hood nodded.
Larry thought for a moment, “I still quit.”
Hood threw his arms up, “No the fuck you don't, Larry.! We have a major raid in like two days!”
Larry turned heel and ran out the door.
___
“Rafael!”
A blanket clad figure appeared in the hallway. It said quietly, “Harold, you are supposed to be at work.”
Larry laughed maniacally, “I quit!”
Rafael looked at him, furrowed eyebrows begging him to explain.
“I read that book last night.”
“I didn’t know you knew how to do that,” Rafael said.
“Rude, but understandable. The book has this weird long plot where like this guy goes to Egypt and falls in love but then he also sells crystals and does wind magic- Anyway! I don’t think I’m meant to be here anymore.”
Rafael looked at him with the biggest eyes in the world, “I understand.”
Larry felt his heart sink. He walked towards Rafael in long strides and grabbed his hands.
“Hey, hey, not like that. Raf,” he said, “the point of the book is that, it’s the journey, not the destination. I love it here, my job, this apartment.” He gestured around.
Larry moved his hands to cradle Rafael’s face, “Because it was all necessary, to meet you.”
He looked at Larry, stunned.
"You silly, silly man. You amaze me yet," articulating each word.
Rafael pushed their forehead’s together. They breathed in tandem, faces a hair apart.
“It is important,” Rafael said, finally, “to give the fish a good home.”
They laughed into each other’s lips.