CHAPTER 1

"I can handle it," I snapped. My supervisor floundered, wringing his calloused hands.

"Are you sure Rose? There isn't supposed to be anything down there, we don't know what's inside," he said ominously. I tightened the harness around my pelvis and shot him an irritated look.

"Listen, I don't know about you but I don't get paid overtime 'round here. Let me drop down there, take a peak and we can all go home," I finished, tying back my straight black hair and replacing my scuffed up yellow hard hat. Jacobson sighed, slumping his shoulders as he double-checked the connection between my harness and the kernmantle rope. I pulled on my gloves, yanked once to make sure I was anchored properly, and approached the opening. Jacobson squinted critically when I turned to give him a nod.

"I'll be quick about it."

"You better. And don't go yapping to the union about this," he relented, tossing me a fat flashlight with a handle. Grabbing it in one hand I shined it down into the problem.

My crew and I were checking the building before the demolitions specialist showed up. Usually we did minor stuff, chase off homeless people and mark locations that were hazardous to walk through, amongst other tedious things. This old factory had been an eyesore in Gotham for nearly a decade and we'd just received the OK to prep it for demo. But at the last minute of our check around we'd found an opening in the floor, a very hidden trap door that wasn't on any iteration of the building's blue prints. The opening yawned deep and dark, my light easily consumed by thick blackness not too far down. One side of the descending tunnel had rebar rungs imbedded in the concrete but both Jacobson and I weren't about to trust that, hence the climbing gear get-up.

Hooking the light to my hip I swung over into opening, carefully rappelling down into the darkness. I moved a touch quicker than I should have but I was pretty eager to go home. It'd been a long day; the factory was huge, old, and condemned. I'd had a portion of the ceiling collapse on me and been covered in lead paint chips, asbestos, and rat skeletons. Praise Jesus for protective eyewear and facemasks. Descending further into the tunnel I glanced up. The amber evening light that had leaked through the building's broken windows was a dim ring well out of reach, at least fifty feet overhead. I continued to walk down the wall, the bouncing light on my hip offering a rare oasis in the dark.

My talkie crackled.

"You got ground yet?" Jacobson's scratchy voiced asked. I pushed my light, revealing a scrabbly concrete floor a bit away. I clicked on my end of the talkie.

"Yeah, thought I found the door to hell for a minute, though." Unclipping from the rope I grabbed my light and swung it in an arc around me. It illuminated a medium sized room, crumbling brick and concrete walls with exposed rebar and girders telling me it was as old as the rest of the facility. I reported my observations to Jacobson as I investigated further.

"What in the Sam Hill is it there for? What would a factory built in the damn twenties need a hidden room for?"

I shined my light on shattered glass bottles littering the floor, following the mess until I found a series of enormous vats lining the. "Prohibition. It's a speakeasy, looks like."

"Huh, well if that ain't something straight out of a history book. Hurry up down there kid, there's a Gotham U game tonight, don't –t wanna lose my faaa - rite seat at thhe ba - AARRRRR -," his voiced crackled and hissed. I frowned at the walkie-talkie, there must be too much concrete and metal to pick up a clear signal.

Without the talkie I was alone under the earth, wandering through glass and cracked stone with only my flashlight to carve out a field of vision. I shivered, my exposed arms covered in gooseflesh from the cold and odd seclusion. It may have been the low ceiling or even my tired mind but I felt cramped, as if I could turn and find an unwelcome company peering over my shoulder. I shook myself out, trying to dispel the nerves.

I refocused on checking the room. This was exactly the type of place that the homeless and crazies of Gotham liked to hole up in like rats. Last thing the company we worked for needed was another scandal of how sloppy workers had allowed another hobo to get caught in a contained blast. My lamp illuminated a door. It was ajar; the contents of the unassuming entranceway were a deep black emptiness. Releasing a deep breath I realized I could see the moisture in the air. Was it really that cold down here?

Approaching the door I tried to open but was met with resistance. The wood must've expanded or something, it happens. Forcing my weight into it I was able to slowly and loudly scrape the door open until it suddenly swung free to reveal the interior beyond. Stale cold air swept over me, rustling my orange safety vest. I stayed outside the door. The reptilian base of my brain urged me to cease and desist. I stubbornly fought through my intuition and entered the void.

More vats lined the walls, books and papers were scattered all over. A pile of chairs dominated the center of the room, stacked erratically to the ceiling. I didn't focus on it, the imagery too close to something out of an Eastern horror flick. Stepping through the madness I heard a metallic ding violating the oppressive silence. I froze, swinging my light to see a metal gas canister rolling towards me.

Rats. It had to be rats. The thinness in the air shifted, a flush of stale wind ghosted my neck. Heart in my throat I whipped around. Nothing.

Okay this is out of control; I'm out of control. Just another bad basement, I'm fine. Somewhere between shivering and trembling I forced through the bubble of primal instincts and quickly swept the rest of the room. Under the desk, behind the pile of chairs, around the vats, and I didn't see anything worth noting.

"KIM, K-K-NNnnn."

I shrieked, dropping my light and scrabbling to shut off my walkie-talkie. It continued to belch out ludicrous interpretations of my name as my sweaty hands slipped off the buttons. The flashlight struck the ground, bounced, and flickered. I clicked off the static of my talkie as the light went out, plunging me into pitch black.

The darkness was a vacuum, my chest crushed in as the breath left my body. Dropping to my knees I scrambled across the floor, scraping my nails and palms against concrete and glass as I searched for the light. I had trouble breathing now, my mouth falling open in anxious gasps. I can't breath. I'm going to die.

This place isn't a basement - it's a grave.

My knuckles brushed something hard. Desperately I grabbed at it, flipping the object between my hands. That's when I saw it, across the room, the softest glow. I looked up sharply, my starved eyes drinking in the meager light.

My brow pulled together as the subtle orange bloom began to drift back and forth. I sat back on my knees and watched transfixed as the shining spots in the dark moved closer, twisting to a secret rhythm. I was absorbed, hypnotized, as it continued its snake dance until it was nearly on top of me.

I was no different than the prey of the deep oceans; my craving for luminescence would not bring me safety.

I flung the object in my hands at the light and flung back just as the orange lights struck, metal sparks exploding off the concrete. I got to my feet and ran blindly, breathing ragged.

Something is down here with me.

I crashed into a wall, ricocheting off and breathing through hot blood pouring from my nose. I scrambled back, diving as the glows bit into the wall where I'd just been. The long strike tearing a bitter rainbow of sparks and screaming metal overhead. For a brief moment something else was illuminated in the sparks, something horrible.

Bolting through the void I knocked my knee into something thin, shrieking as wood and metal groaned and clattered as the mountain of chairs poured across the floor. Lungs tight and heart beating impossibly fast I found the door and ran for it as fast as I could. Behind me furniture and metal knocked into each other the thunderous crashes accompanied by the quiet slap of bare feet.

I found my rope in the dark; wild eyed I searched my harness for the proper rigging. My breathing wasn't getting enough oxygen, my head swam and my tongue felt too thick and choking. Yanking once to make sure the rope was secure and tore up the wall.

"JACOBSON PULL ME UP!" I screamed at the small circle of light that seemed impossibly far away. I grabbed the rope and ascended with brutal swiftness. My shoulders and arms burned with exertion, never stopping my movement and never looking back into the dark. It was right behind me, I could hear it – the breathing. In the last possible moment I whipped my legs up against the wall, the venomous orange light spraying another shower of sparks below. Suddenly I was yanked upwards. Grabbing onto the robe with blind fear I renewed my efforts to survive.

"What the fuck Rose!?" Jacobson shouted. I peered up into painfully pure light and screamed, "PULL ME UP!"

The last twenty feet were the longest in my life. My supervisor grabbed me as soon as I came into reach, and yanked me bodily from the hole. I hit my knees and scrambled from the hole, tearing the harness and rope off as tears rolled down my cheeks. Jacobson dropped to his knees beside me, grabbing my shoulders. "Calm down kid, tell me what happened" he searched me with scared, worry eyes. I could feel my entire body shaking as I met his eyes, my breathing rapid and shallow.

"Something's down there."

"Like an animal or – "

"N-no! Maybe - I don't know," my voice broke, a wet flood pouring from my eyes. Jacobson yanked me against his chest, patting my back until I was under control even as my nose and glass cut hands bled all over his front. "Shhh, don't worry kid you're fine." I shut my eyes, leaning into the warmth of his barrel chest as my breathing evened out into only the occasional ragged breath. There was a clatter. I shrieked, on my feet before Jacobson even looked behind him.

The trap door had shut.