Terra Firma

Jay

Gordon kicked at the shattered glass, frustrated. His face twisted as he gagged on the scent of burnt flesh. I coughed, covering my nose in my shirt.

It was clear that he'd merely set up the bomb as a diversion. The inner wall of the interrogation room and the mess inside the room connecting to it were the only signs of damage.

Boy if you'd been in that room a minute or two longer...

Gordon ran his hands through his ever-greying hair.

"What are we going to do? How can I explain... The Mayor will have questions...I can't believe I did that, I can't believe I let him fool me for one second..."

"He plays off our weaknesses. It's like he knew them from the start." I said, realizing it as I remembered his apparent nameless goon who 'stood by me' before I ran into the room.

"Mine was having hope for the bastard." Gordon replied bitterly.

"You can't have hope for him," I said, "You can only understand."

Gordon and I stared at each other then.

"I can't hide this any longer. The press will get their hands on it," His voice was shaking and filled with guilt, "The others... they want you out."

I nodded curtly, "Alright. I'll give them what they want. This was all my fault. I went crazy and couldn't be stopped... You had nothing to do with it. I threatened you. Tell them I followed him out."

Gordon nodded slowly and I turned for the door.

"You went through so much to get where you are. That madman may even kill you. Why, Gambol?"

"That madman saved my life. Ask Joe. I doubt he'll tell you the truth. But hey. He's not the only one around here who lies, right?"

Gordon looked at me strangely.

"You know I've deserved a promotion over half the guys here. And everytime I try, I get denied. I know what you do.. to keep me from climbing up."

"Jay, I'm trying to protect you...You see, four years ago, the old Commissioner... Oh, nevermind. The thing is you drink, and if someone with access..."

"It's cool. It's cool. I was just saying."

"You do realize if you work with him it may cost you your life?"

"I sure do. But I'm not concerned with that, I just want my friend alive."

I moved to the doorway, knowing I had to take the back way out to avoid people scrambling for my neck. The shattered glass jingled under my feet cheerfully.

"One more thing." Gordon said, hanging his head, knowing he could not combat my stubborn 'fighter' sort of spirit, "If you do find him..."

I looked up and he looked back, and in that moment it almost felt as if we were father and son.

The edges of his toughened face slackened and his eyes bored into my own in warning. He seemed very distant, as if he was remembering something very painful. He was frozen for a long time, then he spoke:

"Don't accept a drink from him."

Homer

I was growing worried about my sister by the time evening rolled around. The newsman was saying something about a small explosion at the Gotham Police Department, possibly caused by The Joker. This didn't help, and neither did Gordon's son, who I could feel staring at me suspiciously as we went outside to throw a ball around in the greying afternoon. We snuck into one of the alleyways his Mom didn't like him being around, because there we could have more room. She didn't see us, she was distracted with putting his younger sister down for a nap and calling the police station a bunch of times.

He kicked it to me. I sensed his surprise as I calmly stepped slightly to the right and raised my foot up, stopping it at just the right moment.

"Geez..."

"Is that all you can say?" I laughed, kicking the ball back. I heard his feet graze the pavement and he caught it, throwing it up this time. I could hear it bounce against the close wall and I lifted my arms, feeling rubber on my fingers and moving the ball into the air once again.

"Stop. You're freaking me out."

"What? That a blind boy can be just like you?"

"It's not... that. It's just, you're so... I mean, you're supposed to..."

"Be weak? Dumb? Handicapped. Retarded? It is about that, I know it. Butthead."

"I'm not a butthead."

"Yeah you are! I smell it from here!"

He got really mad, suddenly kicking the ball so hard it made a FWOOMP sound, whooshing over my head. I heard it bounce far off in the depths of the alleyway, first a big bounce, then two small ones, (one of them splashing in the remnants of a puddle), and finally making tiny pitter patter noises as it slowed to a stop on the ground.

"See if you can find it now." My 'friend' said tauntingly. In the world of adults this would have been a horrible thing, but children--as you may know--are somewhat ignorant and insulting, and cannot help themselves.

"That's not fair!" I retorted. I knew I had to go back and get the ball eventually. It was the poor sense of pride in a young boy's mind that made him do stupid things--like creep into alleyways or play violent games or stick his tongue on an icy pole after someone else triple-dog-dared him.

"It is fair. New game: I'm the good guy, and you're the bad guy. I take the ball away, and you chase after it in the dark!"

"Not true! Meanie!"

"Asshole."

I gasped, ready to retort with a smarter word--less offensive, but with more bite. Maybe something he didn't know the meaning of (my sister refused to say such things, and so I'd done the same), something that would shush him up.

But when I opened my mouth, there was nothing but the cry of a cat. I fixed my eyebrows in confusion, quickly realizing that it wasn't a sound coming from my mouth as the animal darted between my legs. It must've brushed up against Gordy Boy, for he screamed in surprise and fear and turned to run for home.

I laughed, knowing I'd won, "Dummy! It was just a cat!"

I turned, knowing I had to get the ball before going inside, otherwise I'd be subject to more taunts by the bigger boy.

I searched frantically in the place I was sure it had dropped. I don't know how long I'd been there, I lost of track of time. I began to panic, rarely had my ears failed me. My anxiety grew as I realized I was failing, as my worry for my absent sister crept slowly up my back. I began to get desperate as I "lost my cool", as Jay would say, and felt the slippery ground with my hands. I was only halfway aware that I'd begun to sob. It was so dark

(it's dark 98% of the time)

in this place. I slipped and fell forward, feeling the flesh on my knee tear sharply. I hissed, grasping it tightly and feeling a rare thing drop from my eyes. I bit my lip, rocking back and forth.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

"Little boy. Little boy." A voice suddenly vocalized near me. It was like the cool blast of wind you feel in winter. I was shocked, for I hadn't heard him approaching, even though he was making a distinct tapping noise on the ground to get my attention. I looked up. I could see nothing in the deep darkness, no color or shape. Except a curved up white shape glistening high above me.

A smile.

The mystery man bent down to my level, which was difficult for him, judging by the way he stooped and set his tapping thing on the ground awkwardly. I sniffed, frowning at him.

"Now, now. Stiff upper lip, my young buddy. I believe you were looking for this?"

He rolled the ball to me and I smiled back.

"That's it.." He said brightly, making me feel much better just by speaking, "Now, are you hurt?"

"Well, it's not a big deal..."

"Oh, it's a big deal, my friend. Every cut, no matter how small, has the potential to get infected..."

I shrugged, chuckling. This guy smelt like the bowl of peppermint candies the ladies keep on the desk in the hospital, too clean and stale so no one ever eats them. People pass them by and they stay there for years, maybe, content to be alone and sanitary.

My new friend tsked, reaching into his coat. He was equipped with bandages and a little flashlight. I heard it click on and in the dim light I saw that he was green. Something was familair about it... I also saw a dim splotch of red on my knee. I knew my jeans had torn, I could feel the wind hit my skin.

He sprayed my knee with something that smelled like hand sanitizer.

"Ow!"

"It's alright. Now for the bandage," He flashed the light on my face quickly, "Those are some nice sunglasses. Did you know they first appeared in a film, 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'? Audrey Hepburn wore them. Andy Warhol and Bob Dyl--"

"I don't know those people."

"Oh. Oh. Well. How old are you...?"

"I'm six." I said proudly.

"I see. You go to the elementary school?"

"Yes. But... I have to be in the special class."

"Hm, I see." I could feel him nod two times and he reached into his coat again, the flashlight bobbing crazily around as he pulled out something. It made a sound that reminded of the time Angel was measuring her window for curtains.

"A tape measurer." She'd explained.

He quickly wrapped it around my chest before I could step away, focusing the flashlight on it.

"Nice. Even number." He flashed a grin again.

"Why'd you do that?" I asked, looking at him strangely.

"So you can help me, of course." He said brightly, as if it was the obvious thing in the world.

"What...?"

He got up, taking his clickity clackity thing with him, turning and lighting (judging by the smell) a cigarette slowly. The smell of it turned his seemingly clean and innocent scent into something worse, evil even.

"With my next act. Go home, friend. It's dinnertime."

Jay

I'd tried calling Angel about one hundred times. I was beginning to get very nervous. What's more, Homer was still being babysat.

(you have work to do and you've gotta find your other friend now what do you do?)

I picked up my cell phone, this time dailing a different number.

Homer

I poked at my rice. I didn't like rice. It was boring and tasteless. Plus, I was still nervous about what the weird man had said in the alley, even though he'd been so nice and my scrape didn't hurt anymore. Gordon's Mom was very worried about me, lecturing both her son and I never to go out like that again, and to always stay in pairs. I hadn't told them anything. They would've thought I was crazy. Special.

I sighed. When was Sis going to pick me up?

The phone rang. I perked up as Gordon's Mom picked it up.

"Hello? Oh, yes. He's right here."

She handed the phone to me.

"Yes?"

"Hi, Homes."

"Hi Jay." I smiled when he called me that.

"Having fun?"

"Eh."

A short laugh. It sounded a bit forced.

"When's Sis coming to get--"

"That's what I called about. You know Cosette's... in trouble?"

"Yes." I knew that much.

"Well... Angel and I are helping out and finding her. But... it might take a few days, you understand?"

My mouth tightened and my tummy felt wrong. But I knew I had to be strong.

"Yes. I understand."

"Just stay there, and wait till we give you the word, alright?"

"Alright."

"Okay. Okay... stay cool? Give the phone back to Mrs. Gordon, will you?"

"Okay." I blinked hard, not understanding why Jay sounded like he was going to cry. I'd never heard an adult cry before, I didn't know it was possible.

Gordon's Mom retrieved the kitchen phone. She didn't talk back into it for a very long time. Jay was speaking. My sharp ears couldn't catch the words, but I could tell he was explaining something in a very serious and calculating voice.

Gordon's Mom nodded.

"Yes. Yes. I'll take good care of him."

That last phrase scared me. But I trusted Jay.

I would soon learn that trusting adults is a tricky thing--except when it came to the Purple Man and The Flower Lady.

But I didn't think about it then. I was just a kid, after all.

"You can help me. With my next act."

Jay

I'd parked a long ways off. After hours of searching just once more, I was now standing outside of an old, run down car shop. I think. The building was so old it was too hard to identify.

I felt really bad about lying to Homer, leaving him alone with people he wasn't very well acquainted with, but if I told him the truth and tried to drag him with me, I knew it would be worse for both of us.

Sometimes, people deserve more than the truth. Sometimes, people deserve to have their faith rewarded.

I licked my lips. There was a thick presence around this building. I could taste it. I knew this was where he was hiding.

Thing was, I didn't know how to enter. Would I sneak or barge? Yell or whisper?

I remember one thing Cosette always told me, whenever I was feeling conflicted or about to spend a summer in rehab again.

"Every journey starts with a footstep. No matter how many miles you cover or oceans you cross. Just one, small, step."

I expelled a deep breathe, taking a moment to look up at the rainy sky.

Alright.

I took my first step.

Walking straight into the house of The Purple Death.