Collateral Damage
Ana
Winter had arrived in Gotham. Small snowflakes fell, mingling with the freezing rain, as the wind ripped its way through the dark alley. Pulling my hood up, I hurried down the pavement, staying close to the long brick walls. The package, boxed and taped, was secured in a messenger bag under my coat. Although it was bulky and uncomfortable, it was necessary. Wandering around in Crime Alley alone was dangerous enough, if you’re spotted carrying anything at all, you’re sure to be mugged. Or worse.
Gotham is a dark city. It’s crowded, corrupt, and crime-ridden. There’s a very thick dividing line between Gotham’s wealthy and the poor. The crime bosses thrive on this division. Gotham City is primarily made up of three islands. The farthest North is Uptown, the wealthiest part of the city. Uptown is home to the fashion district, Channel Park, and countless fancy apartments. Connecting Uptown to Midtown, are the Starr, Webb, and Cross bridges. Midtown offers some nice apartments, like Uptown, but it’s mainly business. Gotham City Police Department Headquarters, Wayne Tower, and the Gotham City Opera House are all located there. Midtown is overflowing with nightclubs, theatres, restaurants, and businesses. Just across the Midtown, Narrows, and Clinton bridges, lies Downtown. Downtown is much more varied than the others. In the South you’ve got China Town and the China Town Docks. To the west lie Blackgate Prison, a maximum security prison, and the Major Crimes Unit of the GCPD. In the middle, the Financial district rules, centered at the Gotham City Stock Exchange. Gotham City Hall and Trillium Park border the ever unpopular East End. The poorest and most crime-ridden part of Gotham, the East End, is the seat of crime bosses and warring mobs. They enlist the help of the poor, the homeless, the insane, and the wayward, like me, in their networks.
However, the worst part of Gotham lies on a small island, a piece of rock between Midtown and Downtown. This tiny piece of land, with no definitive name, houses Arkham Asylum, a notorious prison for the criminally insane. Also located on the island are the Narrows. These were long row buildings built a hundred years ago to house the scores of impoverished after the Depression. Today they are abandoned, but are often used as a hideout for petty criminals and the homeless. The island is restricted, only accessible by nine guarded and gated bridges. However, those of us with superior knowledge of the Gotham City streets know of other ways to get across.
Halfway down a dirty alley, I heard a heavy door open and a pair of deep voices. Cursing, I dove behind a couple of garbage cans and hoped the darkness would conceal me. After a few minutes of hushed talk, the two men walked back through the door they had come from. Shifting the bag underneath my too-small coat, I took a deep breath and continued slinking down the alley. Only three more blocks. Only three more blocks, I told myself. My breath was forming white clouds in the cold November night air as I slipped out of the alley and hurried down 18th Avenue towards Naber Street, the Easternmost street downtown. The streets in this part of East End were dubbed Crime Alley for a reason. The buildings were mostly tall brick apartments, with a few small businesses on the ground floor. My destination was just up ahead, a small and dirty bar called Ned’s Place. As I rounded the corner onto Naber Street, I noticed a group of half a dozen guys smoking just outside the entrance to the bar.
Quickly and quietly, I slipped down the narrow alley next to the bar and spotted a side entrance. I shimmied the messenger bag higher up on my shoulder as I made my way towards the door. But a soft thud followed by the unmistakable sound of quiet footsteps behind me made the breath catch in my throat. There was someone behind me, following me. I was headed down an alley, surrounded by brick walls on three sides. Only one door, leading into the bar, stood to the right. What if it’s locked? My heart stopped. I was trapped.
Living on the streets of Gotham and making deliveries for the city’s criminals is dangerous. Not many make it out alive. In order to survive, you have to be smart and you have to be fast. You have to know the city, every street, every alley, every building.
Pushing hard off the ground, I bolted forward. The hood flew back off my head and my hair whipped around as another gust of wind got caught in the small alley. I spotted a fire escape at the back end of the alley and flew towards it. The whistling wind and the thump of my heartbeat drowned out every other sound, but I could feel my pursuer gaining on me.
Within feet of the ladder, I leapt forward and grasped the bottom rung, but the old ladder was rusty and did not pull down. Gripping the bottom rung, I tried to pull myself up, kicking my legs wildly. Just as I reached up to grab the second rung, I felt a hand curl around my ankle. I tried to kick it off, but one forceful tug had my hands slipping from the ladder and falling to the ground. I cried out unintentionally as I fell, landing hard on my back, my head smacking the pavement. The last thing I remembered was a blurred vision of a pair of bright green eyes under a black mask looking down at me.
___
The first thing I noticed when I came to was warmth. I forced open my heavy eyelids, struggling to remember what had happened. I smelled smoke and the unmistakable crackling of a fire, but as I moved to sit up, my head throbbed and forced me back down. Breathing through the pain, I looked around the small room. It was dark, the only light coming from the flames in the fireplace. Above that, a concrete mantel held a few old books and picture frames. There was an old, ratty couch near the fireplace, but that appeared to be the only furniture in the room.
Groaning, I tried sitting up again with more success. A shadow jumped across the room as my pursuer walked out of the corner of the room and into the light. “Yeah… I’m real sorry about that.” He sighed, referring to my head.
He walked across the room and fell onto the old, floral couch. As he leaned forward to warm his hands over the fire, I let my gaze settle on him again. He was young, surely no older than twenty and he was dressed… oddly. Thick black boots with reinforced buckles covered his feet and lower legs. Above that, he wore a pair of tight black pants and a heavy metal belt with a dozen attachments. A dark red plate of armor, adorned with a yellow “R” on the right side of his chest, covered his entire torso. His upper arms were bare, revealing his thick, defined biceps while his forearms, hands, and knuckles were encased in metal armor as well, surely able to deliver deadly punches. A long cape with an attached hood hung behind him, black on the outside and yellow underneath.
Although I had never seen anything quite like it, I knew immediately what his outfit meant. There were always stories circulating about heroes and villains in this town. Although not all the stories were true, the characters were. Batman, Gotham’s premiere vigilante had made it his duty to eradicate organized crime in Gotham. But one man in a costume was hardly a match for the ever increasing number of criminals, mob bosses, and psychopaths in this city.
I’d never seen Batman or any of the top villains in person. The criminal networks were extensive. The crime bosses met with very few people, an inner circle. The boss discusses plans and gives orders to these few men, who each have men of their own. It’s a hierarchical system with each level reporting only to the level above them. It keeps the bosses and his closest associates safe.
Swiping my bright red hair out of my eyes, I stared up at him. “Who are you?” I asked quietly.
He chuckled softly and turned his head to look back down at me. “Who am I? Who are you?” He pushed himself up off the couch and leaned against the mantel, the light from the fire shining brightly behind him. With sudden fear, I noticed that he was holding the small box, my delivery, in his hands while the bag it was in, the bag that contained some of my only personal items, was discarded on the floor in front of the couch. “I followed you from The Stacked Deck Club all the way to the East End, which wasn’t easy, I’ll have you know. I pulled you off that ladder, expecting you to be another thug working for Falcone or Penguin.” Shifting his eyes from mine to the small box in his hands, he let out a deep breath. “But…”
I scooted few feet back and stood up, leaning against the wall as my head spun once again. As I regained my balance, I lifted my gaze up to him. “But what?” I asked harshly. “You were obviously right. I’m delivering that on the orders of one of Falcone’s men.”
Without looking up at me, he nodded. “I know.” He flipped the box around and I watched him intently, his face and dark, thick hair glowing in the light of the fire. “But I don’t know what to do. You’re just a kid. A girl.”
I clenched my teeth. “I am not a kid.”
Shifting his body to face me directly, his eyed flicked to my bag lying on the floor. “Anastasia Peterson. Date of birth: June 8, 1995. You’re seventeen.” He said quietly, eyes meeting mine again. “You’re a kid.”
My face contorted in anger. He had looked through my bag and had found my ID card. They issued them to all the kids at the Old Gotham Children’s Shelter. Fuming, I walked forward and picked up my bag, swinging it over my shoulder. “You don’t know anything about me.” I snapped, moving towards him, grabbing for the box in his hands.
But he took a step back and held the box behind his back. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to live like this.” His voice was quiet, but his words were direct and his eyes were piercing. “These men are dangerous. You’re putting yourself in danger.”
Breathing heavily, not a foot away from him, I held his gaze. “You don’t know what it’s like. I need that package.” It was true. Whatever was inside that box was a part of Falcone’s business. A small enough part to risk having it delivered by a young girl, but still, a part. And if that package wasn’t delivered, I would pay the price. With no money to my name, there was no way I could reimburse Falcone for the loss.
He let out a deep breath and his gaze flickered away from mine again. “You know I can’t give it to you. This… this is my job.” He started to turn towards the window, but I lurched forward, catching him off guard. The box slipped from his grasp as I threw all of my weight against him, causing him to stumble forward. In a heartbeat I scooped up the box and threw myself out the half open window, onto the fire escape. It took me only a moment to realize that it was the same fire escape he had pulled me from earlier and I tucked the box under my arm as I swung over the rail.
Effortlessly, my feet found the ladder, but as I lowered myself down, the boy tumbled out the window and leaned over the railing, grasping the strap of my bag. I gasped and looked up at him. His teeth were clenched as his fist balled around the strap and the muscles in his arm became taut as he pulled. My dark blue eyes locked on his bright green ones once more and I couldn’t help but smile as I quickly unclasped the strap of my bag and dropped to the ground. My feet propelled me forward and as I ran out of the alley, I glanced back to see the boy standing on the fire escape, his hair disheveled, holding my black bag limply at his side.
___
Sometimes when I close my eyes, I pretend I'm all right but it's never enough. Cause my echo, echo is the only voice coming back. My shadow, shadow is the only friend that I have. -"Echo"; Jason Walker
Gotham is a dark city. It’s crowded, corrupt, and crime-ridden. There’s a very thick dividing line between Gotham’s wealthy and the poor. The crime bosses thrive on this division. Gotham City is primarily made up of three islands. The farthest North is Uptown, the wealthiest part of the city. Uptown is home to the fashion district, Channel Park, and countless fancy apartments. Connecting Uptown to Midtown, are the Starr, Webb, and Cross bridges. Midtown offers some nice apartments, like Uptown, but it’s mainly business. Gotham City Police Department Headquarters, Wayne Tower, and the Gotham City Opera House are all located there. Midtown is overflowing with nightclubs, theatres, restaurants, and businesses. Just across the Midtown, Narrows, and Clinton bridges, lies Downtown. Downtown is much more varied than the others. In the South you’ve got China Town and the China Town Docks. To the west lie Blackgate Prison, a maximum security prison, and the Major Crimes Unit of the GCPD. In the middle, the Financial district rules, centered at the Gotham City Stock Exchange. Gotham City Hall and Trillium Park border the ever unpopular East End. The poorest and most crime-ridden part of Gotham, the East End, is the seat of crime bosses and warring mobs. They enlist the help of the poor, the homeless, the insane, and the wayward, like me, in their networks.
However, the worst part of Gotham lies on a small island, a piece of rock between Midtown and Downtown. This tiny piece of land, with no definitive name, houses Arkham Asylum, a notorious prison for the criminally insane. Also located on the island are the Narrows. These were long row buildings built a hundred years ago to house the scores of impoverished after the Depression. Today they are abandoned, but are often used as a hideout for petty criminals and the homeless. The island is restricted, only accessible by nine guarded and gated bridges. However, those of us with superior knowledge of the Gotham City streets know of other ways to get across.
Halfway down a dirty alley, I heard a heavy door open and a pair of deep voices. Cursing, I dove behind a couple of garbage cans and hoped the darkness would conceal me. After a few minutes of hushed talk, the two men walked back through the door they had come from. Shifting the bag underneath my too-small coat, I took a deep breath and continued slinking down the alley. Only three more blocks. Only three more blocks, I told myself. My breath was forming white clouds in the cold November night air as I slipped out of the alley and hurried down 18th Avenue towards Naber Street, the Easternmost street downtown. The streets in this part of East End were dubbed Crime Alley for a reason. The buildings were mostly tall brick apartments, with a few small businesses on the ground floor. My destination was just up ahead, a small and dirty bar called Ned’s Place. As I rounded the corner onto Naber Street, I noticed a group of half a dozen guys smoking just outside the entrance to the bar.
Quickly and quietly, I slipped down the narrow alley next to the bar and spotted a side entrance. I shimmied the messenger bag higher up on my shoulder as I made my way towards the door. But a soft thud followed by the unmistakable sound of quiet footsteps behind me made the breath catch in my throat. There was someone behind me, following me. I was headed down an alley, surrounded by brick walls on three sides. Only one door, leading into the bar, stood to the right. What if it’s locked? My heart stopped. I was trapped.
Living on the streets of Gotham and making deliveries for the city’s criminals is dangerous. Not many make it out alive. In order to survive, you have to be smart and you have to be fast. You have to know the city, every street, every alley, every building.
Pushing hard off the ground, I bolted forward. The hood flew back off my head and my hair whipped around as another gust of wind got caught in the small alley. I spotted a fire escape at the back end of the alley and flew towards it. The whistling wind and the thump of my heartbeat drowned out every other sound, but I could feel my pursuer gaining on me.
Within feet of the ladder, I leapt forward and grasped the bottom rung, but the old ladder was rusty and did not pull down. Gripping the bottom rung, I tried to pull myself up, kicking my legs wildly. Just as I reached up to grab the second rung, I felt a hand curl around my ankle. I tried to kick it off, but one forceful tug had my hands slipping from the ladder and falling to the ground. I cried out unintentionally as I fell, landing hard on my back, my head smacking the pavement. The last thing I remembered was a blurred vision of a pair of bright green eyes under a black mask looking down at me.
___
The first thing I noticed when I came to was warmth. I forced open my heavy eyelids, struggling to remember what had happened. I smelled smoke and the unmistakable crackling of a fire, but as I moved to sit up, my head throbbed and forced me back down. Breathing through the pain, I looked around the small room. It was dark, the only light coming from the flames in the fireplace. Above that, a concrete mantel held a few old books and picture frames. There was an old, ratty couch near the fireplace, but that appeared to be the only furniture in the room.
Groaning, I tried sitting up again with more success. A shadow jumped across the room as my pursuer walked out of the corner of the room and into the light. “Yeah… I’m real sorry about that.” He sighed, referring to my head.
He walked across the room and fell onto the old, floral couch. As he leaned forward to warm his hands over the fire, I let my gaze settle on him again. He was young, surely no older than twenty and he was dressed… oddly. Thick black boots with reinforced buckles covered his feet and lower legs. Above that, he wore a pair of tight black pants and a heavy metal belt with a dozen attachments. A dark red plate of armor, adorned with a yellow “R” on the right side of his chest, covered his entire torso. His upper arms were bare, revealing his thick, defined biceps while his forearms, hands, and knuckles were encased in metal armor as well, surely able to deliver deadly punches. A long cape with an attached hood hung behind him, black on the outside and yellow underneath.
Although I had never seen anything quite like it, I knew immediately what his outfit meant. There were always stories circulating about heroes and villains in this town. Although not all the stories were true, the characters were. Batman, Gotham’s premiere vigilante had made it his duty to eradicate organized crime in Gotham. But one man in a costume was hardly a match for the ever increasing number of criminals, mob bosses, and psychopaths in this city.
I’d never seen Batman or any of the top villains in person. The criminal networks were extensive. The crime bosses met with very few people, an inner circle. The boss discusses plans and gives orders to these few men, who each have men of their own. It’s a hierarchical system with each level reporting only to the level above them. It keeps the bosses and his closest associates safe.
Swiping my bright red hair out of my eyes, I stared up at him. “Who are you?” I asked quietly.
He chuckled softly and turned his head to look back down at me. “Who am I? Who are you?” He pushed himself up off the couch and leaned against the mantel, the light from the fire shining brightly behind him. With sudden fear, I noticed that he was holding the small box, my delivery, in his hands while the bag it was in, the bag that contained some of my only personal items, was discarded on the floor in front of the couch. “I followed you from The Stacked Deck Club all the way to the East End, which wasn’t easy, I’ll have you know. I pulled you off that ladder, expecting you to be another thug working for Falcone or Penguin.” Shifting his eyes from mine to the small box in his hands, he let out a deep breath. “But…”
I scooted few feet back and stood up, leaning against the wall as my head spun once again. As I regained my balance, I lifted my gaze up to him. “But what?” I asked harshly. “You were obviously right. I’m delivering that on the orders of one of Falcone’s men.”
Without looking up at me, he nodded. “I know.” He flipped the box around and I watched him intently, his face and dark, thick hair glowing in the light of the fire. “But I don’t know what to do. You’re just a kid. A girl.”
I clenched my teeth. “I am not a kid.”
Shifting his body to face me directly, his eyed flicked to my bag lying on the floor. “Anastasia Peterson. Date of birth: June 8, 1995. You’re seventeen.” He said quietly, eyes meeting mine again. “You’re a kid.”
My face contorted in anger. He had looked through my bag and had found my ID card. They issued them to all the kids at the Old Gotham Children’s Shelter. Fuming, I walked forward and picked up my bag, swinging it over my shoulder. “You don’t know anything about me.” I snapped, moving towards him, grabbing for the box in his hands.
But he took a step back and held the box behind his back. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to live like this.” His voice was quiet, but his words were direct and his eyes were piercing. “These men are dangerous. You’re putting yourself in danger.”
Breathing heavily, not a foot away from him, I held his gaze. “You don’t know what it’s like. I need that package.” It was true. Whatever was inside that box was a part of Falcone’s business. A small enough part to risk having it delivered by a young girl, but still, a part. And if that package wasn’t delivered, I would pay the price. With no money to my name, there was no way I could reimburse Falcone for the loss.
He let out a deep breath and his gaze flickered away from mine again. “You know I can’t give it to you. This… this is my job.” He started to turn towards the window, but I lurched forward, catching him off guard. The box slipped from his grasp as I threw all of my weight against him, causing him to stumble forward. In a heartbeat I scooped up the box and threw myself out the half open window, onto the fire escape. It took me only a moment to realize that it was the same fire escape he had pulled me from earlier and I tucked the box under my arm as I swung over the rail.
Effortlessly, my feet found the ladder, but as I lowered myself down, the boy tumbled out the window and leaned over the railing, grasping the strap of my bag. I gasped and looked up at him. His teeth were clenched as his fist balled around the strap and the muscles in his arm became taut as he pulled. My dark blue eyes locked on his bright green ones once more and I couldn’t help but smile as I quickly unclasped the strap of my bag and dropped to the ground. My feet propelled me forward and as I ran out of the alley, I glanced back to see the boy standing on the fire escape, his hair disheveled, holding my black bag limply at his side.
___
Sometimes when I close my eyes, I pretend I'm all right but it's never enough. Cause my echo, echo is the only voice coming back. My shadow, shadow is the only friend that I have. -"Echo"; Jason Walker