It was a cold night. The sky had decided that acid rains on the last maple grove of northern America weren't enough, and so the acrid waters fell on the gloomy streets of Monopolis mercilessly.

Johnny didn't know about the rain, though. He wasn't one of those who had the leisure of going out in the sun to get ready for another spatial vacation. No, Johnny was only a scruffy kid with no faith, no law, no riches and no life. He only had survival.

The humidity permeated the subterranean world, though, and the common halls weren't bearable anymore. He needed better, safer, warmer. And he was hungry. And he was thirsty. And soon the gangs would come out and who knows?

There was a sign – the obsolete neon twisted to read "Underground Café" and he snorted. "Way to go, President Obvious," he groaned balefully at the sign. He stayed a long time in the shadows, observing who came in, who came out. They all looked like no-one would ever beat on them. They all looked like they'd be able to protect anyone from Pops. They were also twice his age, though.

Eventually, hunger won out. He stood and squared his shoulders. The bouncer, who was about the size of a healthy grizzly, looked him up and down. "Kid, you're not coming in," he growled.

"What, too young?"

"No, too ugly."

It must have been desperation. He started with a punch to the bear's jaw – it was the element of surprise that allowed the hit to land. There was blood on Johnny's knuckles, but he didn't give a flying fuck. He licked it and growled at the bouncer, who was still reeling. "Want more, or am I coming in?" The smug taunt was answered by a responding jab, and the boy caught it in the belly with a muffled cry of pain. In the ensuing brawl, he lost consciousness.

His next memory is that of a cool hand on his face.

"Mum?" He moaned it painfully through a split lip and a missing tooth.

"I'm Marie-Jeanne," the voice said, gently. "How old are you?"

"None of your business," he growled, and turned to avoid facing the generous face that was trying to peer out of the haze of his unconsciousness.

She sighed, and went back to the bar, leaving the boy to rest in the back shop. She had to go back to serving the customers.

From then on, that was where he slept.

He was fifteen.