All day I had to deal with rude, grabby children with sticky hands. But he was the ultimate version of that. Though he was older than me, he acted worse than half the children I ever had to serve. He thought whatever he touched was his and that everyone would go along with it.
I hated my job. It consisted of long days trapped in a metal box as it baked in the sun, traveling around the city in circles playing the same jingle on repeat so as to attract customers. Customers who tended to be horrid children demanding sugar. I could barely take it anymore, every day would end with my arms coated up to my pits in sticky chocolate and me completely and utterly burnt out.
This job was supposed to help me build character, at least that had been part of the argument that had convinced my father to force to look for work. No longer would I be permitted to be a freeloader living under their roof, I needed job for the summer before my last semesters. I mean, it's not like my step sisters lived at home rent free mooching every cent they could, but hey, that's obviously not my place to comment.
I hated that job. I hated that summer and everything that happened.
Just trust me, don't ever become an ice cream man.
Of course as any story starts, I wasn't expecting something to happen. It was ten minutes to the end of my shift and I had pulled into a quiet alley which had proven on many previous occasions to be a great place to hide undisturbed. I left the truck idling, keeping the battery running for the freezers as I curled up behind them, hiding in the furthest reaches of the truck.
I put my headphones in and packed a bowl as I watched the music video on the screen. I'm not sure why but I've always found the Salmon Dance relaxing. I smiled slightly, inhaling the smoke as I watched the fish swim across the screen, bobbing my head along to the rhythm. These small smoke breaks were the only time I really got a chance to escape, just chilling with the cooler listening to music. I actually felt like I was able to relax a little. That was until the truck jerked forward, the sudden momentum causing the back of my head to bash against the fridge I was leaning against, before the vehicle switched into reverse, throwing my face into the rear wall.
I gripped my nose, trying to stand up in the moving vehicle. I didn't know who was driving but they obviously weren't experienced operating an ice cream truck. I stumbled from side to side, moving down the small aisle toward the door to the truck's cab.
I fell into the passenger seat as the truck whipped around a corner, "What the fuck!" I yelled clutching my bloody nose.
In the driver seat was a strange man, spinning the steering wheel from side to side. I didn't need to see the speedometer to know he was pushing it as fast as it could go. He looked over noticing me in my blood spattered uniform for the first time.
"Who the fuck are you?" He barked, his gaze lingering on me when I'd rather it was on the road. Actually, I'd rather he wasn't in my truck at all.
"I'm the fucking ice cream man whose truck you're fucking stealing!" I shouted at him over the sound of the boxes tumbling in the back. I knew that all the cones were shattered by now. I was gunna be in so much trouble with my boss. I was fired for sure.
"Oy, fuck, yeh nearly made me shat meself," he commented angrily as his head moved between looking at me and the road.
"What!?" I shouted back bracing myself against the momentum of that truck as he spun the wheel erratically. I looked toward the dash, at the small monitor that was flashing the red warning about going out of my designated course, "This truck is tracked by GPS you know," I yelled at him, "They already know something's up!"
When I finally looked around I noticed where we where. We were on Commercial street. Covered in fish markets and shipyards, it was the closest street to the water on the west shore of the Gotham River.
The truck was barreling past docks directly towards my favorite of the various fish markets. I watched the many long wooden piers that jutted out perpendicular to us into the water, as they flashed by the windows. My knuckles had gone white as I gripped the edge of the seat, watching the fog covered river. I could see no options beside crashing into a bunch of people or into the water and either way I was dead.
At the last moment he cranked the wheel to the left. The vehicle was thrown sideways, barely balanced on two wheels as it made the sharp turn. I was so frozen with fear I could hardly process what was going on. At first I worried we were driving down a pier, one that would eventually end, but as we moved further I realize it was a bridge. An ancient wooden bridge that had been out of commision for decades. It was probably half rotted and could barely support itself, let alone us. I continued to panic, just waiting for the wood to give out underneath us as the metal box I was trapped in rumbled across the beams.
About three quarters of the way across the structure, the stranger in the driver's seat did the unthinkable and turned to the right, sending the front of the truck through the wooden barrier on the edge.
I inadvertantly screamed in terror as the water below us became my only view through the windshield. I had no idea what to do, I was in complete panic and certain I was going to die because of a job I hated. I was going to be a casualty of Gotham's crime problem. Another statistic showing how the corrupt system had cost another citizen their life and I bet it wouldn't even make a difference to anyone.
There was a painfully tight grip around my upper arm as I was yanked out of my seat towards the back of the truck. The stranger pulled me over the scattered boxes and past the coolers through the rear exit. He jumped with ease onto the old wooden bridge but I fell forward, face planting next to him.
As fast as I could, I rolled over onto my ass and pushed myself away from him. The truck was balancing over the edge of the bridge, the axle underneath caught just on the edge of the last board. The sight would've been fascinating to see if I was at all interested in physics and not scared shitless at the time.
The man stood with his back to me, facing towards the truck. Holding a black duffle bag over his shoulder as he lifted his foot and kicked the bumper. He swore loudly as he stomped on the truck. It seemed like he was acting more out of frustration than an attempt at problem solving because when the truck finally did begin to tilt, the metal groaning as it fell forwards off the beam, he jumped back in surprise, ending up on the ground next to me.
We both climbed to our knees and looked over the edge as the butt of the truck sunk under the water. There were bubbles for a few minutes and a bunch of ice cream bars floated to the surface but after a short while there was no sign of the truck. Well, besides the giant fucking hole in the side of the bridge.
He briskly stood to his feet, grabbing both the duffel bag and my arm.
"Com'on," he commanded pulling me up next to him. I tried to fight back and managed to release myself from his grip. It was a foggy night, and though I had never been on this bridge which I currently could not see either end of, I knew what lay back where we came from. As for the far end of the bridge, I was pretty sure where that lead to and I knew I did not want to go there.
"No! I'm not going that way," I shouted to him, rubbing my arm where he'd been grabbing me, I knew it was going to bruise. I turned around to head back. The guys at the fish market knew me and I'd bet they'd let me use the phone. I was sure of it.
The man grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm around, forcing me to stand on the very edge of one of the broken beams above the water, "Yeh comin' wit' me, or yeh joinin' ya truck," He growled into my face. If he let go, I would've easily fallen backwards into the middle of the river. I was too scared to move. He took my silence as a sign of submission and pulled me back towards him. Keeping his grip on my arm tight, he continued down the ancient bridge through the thick fog, towards the worst part of Gotham, towards the Narrows.