Chapter 8 - "Matt Kattegat"
"Matt!" Abel Van Maes yelled, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway into the back room of his café, the Café Dutchman. "You just gonna stand around all day or are you gonna actually do some work?"
Blond, eighteen-year-old Matt Kattegat grinned as he jumped to his feet. "Don't worry, I'm gonna get to it. I just was taking a break." Matt scratched at his hair, kept neat in a triangle-shaped style.
"Break, huh?" Abel asked. Like Matt, he had blond hair, but his was dirty blond and kept short and spiked. Abel was also five years Matt's senior, but the two were the best of friends and practically brothers. "You've been on a break all day, my man."
Matt reached for the black apron slung over the back of his chair. "All right, all right, I'm getting to work."
"Let's see some hustle," Abel shot back, partly joking. Partly because, even though he was an organized man, Abel knew that Matt's slowness was both a mix of his own king of jesting and the wandering thoughts of youth. Not that Abel was any old-timer himself, but he was old enough to be Matt's boss.
Matt tied the apron onto his body and marched from the back room. Abel followed, clad in the same type of apron. It was his idea, a whim of his. He had several characteristics that were . . . unique, as he was a neat-freak and completely obsessed with organization.
Matt snorted at the thought. When he had first met Abel, the man was anything but organized. He was a mess, putting it bluntly.
Matt had stumbled into Abel's apartment one night when Abel was a drug addict, strung out on practically everything, from narcotics to alcohol. After a bit of a talk, Matt was able to speak to the young, troubled man and he learned his background. Turned out, Abel had grown up in a house with two druggies for parents, and they had abandoned and neglected him. Then Abel's "friends" had left him for the police once, and then, the current situation involved a girl who he had gotten mixed up with. Everything seemed to be going well, until Abel had found out his girlfriend was sleeping with his boss. When he asked her about it, she informed his boss of his knowledge and Abel was fired, losing his job and his girl at the same time.
Such a story had gotten Matt, even though he was still young, to help turn this young man's life around. Abel had been involved in drug cartels, but Matt was able to steer him away from using drugs constantly and dealing fluently with the cartels. He wasn't fully, one-hundred percent clean just yet, but things were a lot better, and Matt was to thank for that.
Out of appreciation, after he had gotten on his feet again, Abel had started a café and he hired Matt to be waiter there. Matt graciously accepted, and he was able to provide funding for his family. What was left of it, that is.
Matt had a tough childhood, and a life that was the thing of movies or fiction. He had been birthed by a Danish woman, Margarethe, who took part in a ritual. It failed, and the product of the failure was Matt. The ritual leader refused to kill Margarethe for failing but he left her alone at the site. Margarethe stumbled into the road and was nearly killed before she was helped by a passing stranger.
Eventually, a Dutch man named Christian Kattegat married Margarethe and brought her life to a normal pace. Christian raised Matt as his own son, and he and Margarethe eventually bore two more children, a boy named Jan and a girl named Lucy. As they grew up, Matt, Jan, and Lucy were the best of friends.
Until one night when everything changed. Matt heard a noise and investigated, finding his mother, wearing a hood, fighting with other hooded figures. She told him to run with his siblings. Attackers approached and she summoned fire to burn them alive. Another hooded figure gave Matt the same warning, and he rushed to his siblings. As he did so, he peeked into his parents' bedroom, where he saw blood all over the place. Frightened, Matt rushed to his siblings' room and found them awakened and in shambles. He took them and . . . left.
He didn't run from the house or hide, he just left, thanks to an ability he still did not have full understanding of. He had accredited it to the failed ritual—perhaps it wasn't as failed as once thought. He had some kind of connection with darkness, he knew that from an early age. His shadow had always been darker than those of others, and he had been able to create various hallucinogens to scare his siblings and others. All out of fun, primarily.
What happened then had shocked him, and he still didn't quite have a grasp on how he exactly did it. He just hugged his brother and sister close and wished and prayed that they could get away, and . . . they just left.
They found themselves in a dark alley, in a city near his home. Someone was in the alley when they arrived and approached, inquiring about the whole situation. In fear, Matt had lashed out, and the sight that followed still chilled his bones—black tentacles, they appeared to be, reached from the shadows and grabbed the man by his throat, yanking and tearing. The sickening snaps and pops were still fresh in his mind as the man's shrieks were muffled and his head snapped a full one-eighty.
In fear, he had ran off with his brother and sister. He had been able to master his abilities enough to learn that he could instill thoughts into the minds of others, and he told his siblings that they were alone and wiped away all memories of the things that had happened—the fighting, the killing, all of it.
Matt still shuddered at the thought of what he'd done. The man could've meant harm, yes, but he also could've just been a harmless hobo innocently inquiring, and Matt had never given him the chance.
All this, when he was just ten.
For years, Matt went on the run with Jan and Lucy. They moved from town to town, city to city, and he would take on small jobs wherever he could as a kid. He tried to get his siblings as much of an education as he could, providing false papers to get them into schools. But they still had to leave regularly, erasing all marks of their pasts.
Matt had a run-in once with a few hooded figures, who were some of the very same ones he had encountered in the house that night, some of the people his mother had been fighting. He had used the darkness to swallow them up, tear them apart. He was just thankful for the shadows so he didn't have to see the carnage with his own eyes.
Money was hard to come by as a kid, and Matt knew it. One night, while he was "shadow-walking," as he called it, Matt stumbled upon a warehouse where gang members were plotting a hit-and-run for a rival gang's leader. Seeing the opening he desperately needed, Matt entered the warehouse and disrupted all the lights. Distorting his voice and hiding in the shadows, Matt took the job himself—without invitation—and ordered to have five thousand dollars paid to him for the job.
The gang members, on edge, agreed and left the money on a table with a lit candle. Matt had told them to enter once the candle was out, and their request would be fulfilled. When the light went out, they did as commanded, and found their target's head in the place of the money, and the candle was out. Beside it was a note stating that he could be reached with a small candle if more jobs ever opened up.
Matt's reputation was spread throughout the criminal underworld, and he was referred to as "It." The rumors had caused him to smile—word spread that he was a demon, carrying out jobs. The question he always asked himself was why a demon would want money, but he didn't argue. He got the money and no one ever expected a kid (he was just thirteen at the time of his first job) to be behind such brutal deaths.
Matt himself had a "code" he lived by. He never killed people unless specified by the contract, unless otherwise necessary, and he never targeted women or kids.
Eventually, Matt had had his encounter with Abel and the two had become best of friends. You see, Abel always had a nagging suspicion that Matt was some otherworldly creature, but Matt had relayed his story to his friend and Able believed him—for the most part. He still was a bit fearful, and treated Matt like he owed him a debt at times.
By Matt's book—if he was even keeping score—Abel had paid him back already. Abel had provided Matt with his job as a waiter at the café, and he had helped him open up a bank account to keep his funds stocked. Matt had been able to purchase a small apartment, where he, Jan, and Lucy lived. The kids still went to school—Jan was thirteen and Lucy was eleven—and Matt did tend to spoil them, be it some new gaming console or something they wanted.
Abel had become a regular part of the family, helping them out where he could. Matt had tried to put his hitman job on the backburner. The killing had gotten to him, and even though there was still a lingering feeling there—as if he had a thirst to quench—Matt was able to overcome it, at least most of the time. He still took jobs from time to time, but he wanted to be free of the reputation as a hitman.
Because of the traumatizing situations Matt had experienced, he had sort of relapsed into a more youthful personality. He liked to joke a lot, and he was a pretty innocent kid, despite the work he had done. At first meeting him, you'd think him to be a regular guy, but that was mostly a front. He wanted to make up for some of the things he had missed because of the life he had to live.
As Matt moved from the kitchen, Abel grabbed him by the shoulder and gestured to a couple of trays of food. Abel flicked a thumb over his shoulder to a table where four teenage girls were seated. "This food goes to them over there," he said, and Matt nodded.
The teenager grabbed the trays, one per hand, and moved towards the table. His eyes ran over the food on the plates, and he glanced to the four girls and started his usual approach. "All right, who had the BLT?" A blond raised her hand, and he sat the plate down. "Hamburger with no lettuce? Chicken strips? Chicken sandwich?" After dispensing with the food, he grabbed the trays and asked, "Is there anything else?"
One of the girls shook her head and said, "Looks good."
Matt eyed her food and nodded. "Oh yeah, the chicken here is great. Our cook is a—"
The girls burst into laughter, and the one who spoke up said, "Not the food, silly. You. You're adorable."
Matt felt his face flush as the four girls giggled, and he offered a slim smile. "Well, I . . . um . . . uh . . . enjoy your food." He turned and strode towards the back, depositing the trays in the wash bin. As he turned the corner, he saw Abel standing there, a broad grin on his face, chuckling. "What?" Matt asked, annoyed. His face was still red, he knew it.
"'Oh, you're so adorable'!" Abel mocked in a girly voice. He choked out the last bit of his laugh. "Man, why didn't you stay there and lay some of your regular charm on? I mean, I know you aren't my class or anything, but those are some pretty good-looking girls over there."
Matt shook his head. "You're impossible. And an idiot. Wasn't it store policy not to hit on customers?"
"Policy, shmolicy," Abel said with a wave. "You know no one cares about the policy."
Matt huffed and scratched at his head. He did have a fair share of good looks, and typically had the appearance of a heartthrob, but his youthful innocence often took the wheel on encounters with girls. "Y'know, I think—I think I need a break. Can I get off early today, Abe?"
"Sure, man," Abel replied, his laugh finally subsiding. "Take off. I'll catch you later."
Matt shot back his boyish green and took off his apron, tossing it into the back. He quickly exited the café and found his bicycle, latched in the back outside the building. He climbed on it and pedaled back to his apartment.
The reason Matt had wanted his break had nothing to do with being flustered. Well, maybe a little, but he had wanted to get off a little earlier anyways. Something had come up.
Once he reached the apartment, Matt jogged up the stairs and into his unit. He plopped into the saggy sofa and withdrew his cell phone, digging into his pocket for a scrap of paper. He reread the words on the paper and took a deep breath. "It's now or never, Matt. Now or never."
Matt dialed the number on the paper and waited as the phone rang. He had found the paper in the GCPD complex. One night, he had been shadow-walking when he found a light in a dark room. A note was there, addressed to him. It informed him that they knew of him and his alter-ego, and that they wished to speak with him.
Matt had already outlined terms for whatever it was. If it was a job he wanted to take, he wanted to have some legal papers as a result so that Jan and Lucy could legally enroll into school. He had also made plans so that—
The voice answering on the other end cut off his thoughts. "Commissioner Gordon of the GCPD. How may I help you?"
Matt's tongue caught in his throat. All the practice he had had, and he still wa loss for words. "I—uh—my name is Matt Kattegat, and I—"
"Mr. Kattegat," Gordon's voice coolly replied. "I was getting worried we might miss you."
"Miss me?" Matt asked, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
"It's kind of late to discuss it all right now, but here's the basics. We've been provided with the funds and support to initiate a movement to fight the crime families of Gotham. We are aware of your true identity." Matt almost cut in before Gordon continued. "I know about the killings, but trust me, that's not the purpose of this call. This call is to invite you to a little meeting we're having tonight at seven, at the GCPD. You'll get all the details there." A pause, and then, "Do you think you can make it?"
Matt thought for a moment. Helping fight crime? Him? The thought was one that he liked—a lot. "Yes. I think I can."
"Good. Just be at the GCPD tonight at seven. Ask about . . . well, just say Gordon sent for you. Okay?"
"Okay. Thanks." Matt shut off his phone and sat in silence. "What have I just gotten myself into?" he said after thirty seconds of wondering the exact same thing.
A/N: Here's chapter 8, where we meet Matt Kattegat. What'd you all think of the character and his introductory chapter? Leave your thoughts and comments in the reviews. I'll be back with more soon! Thanks for reading.