Disclaimer: Characters are property of D.C. Comics; I receive no financial gain from writing this.
In the late afternoon light, the boys played on the cracked asphalt of the old parking lot. The pavement had faded from a rich black to grey with chunks missing as weeds grew from holes and between the fissures. The painted lines had faded as well and only hints of white and yellow were evident as the boys ran across them.
In the Narrows, this was their playground. It was a dismal island of grey in the sea of tenement housing. From the center of the Narrows rose Arkham Asylum, like a castle in a small, ruined kingdom. The stark grey walls rose from behind the steel fence itself in dire need of repair. It was the source of the darkness which had penetrated the Narrows since its construction. The City said that the crime resulted from the depression which plagued them. But the elderly of the Narrows would tell you that the sun never shone quite as brightly after the Asylum had been finished.
It was behind this castle where the boys played. They wore their coats even though it was the end of the summer. Other parts of Gotham were still warm, but in the Narrows the wind took the warmth just as Arkham had taken the sun.
The boys swung their bats and chased the ball someone's father had given him for his birthday. It was a genuine leather Major-League baseball and the boy had proudly written his name on it in indelible ink.
Children could still play in the streets even then. It was long before the homeless and the junkies and the gangs had overrun the City. It was a time when hope was trying to shine through the darkness that had befallen Gotham. Hope's name was Thomas Wayne.
A small blonde boy swung the heavy bat as he peered at the kid who was pitching from beneath the brim of his ball cap which fell over his ears. It was his father's, a grimy cap from the company he worked for. He thought it a waste of money to buy the boy his own since he would grow, eventually.
The skinny child clumsily swung the bat and missed the ball. Some of the other boys laughed at him. He was shorter than the rest of them and they only let him play because they needed even numbers.
They called him names and distracted him as he swung again. The ball sailed over his head, clearly a 'Ball' if he hadn't tried to hit it but he knew they would have counted it against him no matter what he did.
On the third pitch, he struck the ball and then stood there with surprise as it took off. He blinked his brown eyes from behind his blonde lashes as he watched the ball in flight. Someone shoved him, nearly knocking him to the ground and yelled at him.
"Move your ass, Jackie!" The older boy yelled.
Jack ran toward the book bag that was their first base. He reached it in time to see the ball fall beyond the fence and bounce on the neglected grounds of the Asylum. He stopped and stared open-mouthed as the other kids gasped at the sight.
"Damn it, Jackie! That's my ball!" Dave cried out, furious as he reached the small boy and punched him in the back. Jack spun around and tried to duck another blow, only to end up on his backside while the other boy stood above him menacingly.
"You have to go get it." The boy seethed, his spittle hitting Jack's face. Jack wiped his face and looked at the Asylum and then back at Dave and shook his head fervently.
"Go get it, you sissy! Get it or I'll tell my dad and he'll tell your dad and you'll get the beating of your life. You know you will!" The boy's voice raised an octave as he screamed at Jack. The other boys joined in and Jack knew that what Dave said was true.
He climbed to his feet and walked toward the fence, slowly at first and then picked up his pace as rocks struck him from behind. He stared up at the chain links uncertainly and then climbed the fence as the other boys continued to pelt him with rocks and call him names.
Once over the side and on the neglected grass, Jack stared up at the building where the crazy people were kept. He froze for a moment as if expecting a crowd of mad people to appear from around the corner and grab him, tearing him to pieces while they cackled insane laughter.
He saw the ball and hurried over it and picked it up and turned back to the fence. As he saw them, watching them, he noticed the boys had stopped yelling. Their faces were awash with horror and it was then that Jack heard the dogs.
A glance over his shoulder showed him a startling image of three large German Shepherds who were barking and snarling as they ran toward him. His breath caught in his throat and he turned back to the fence and ran, catching the metal in his hands as he reached it.
"The ball! Jackie, throw the ball!" Dave cried, and for some reason unknown to him, Jack paused and heaved the ball over the fence as the dogs gained on him.
He only made it halfway up the fence before one of the large animals jumped and caught his leg in his mouth and tore him away. He hit the ground hard and the fall knocked the wind out of him. Through black spots dancing before his eyes he saw the other boys running away as he felt the teeth of one of the animals sink into the soft flesh of his leg.