CHAPTER THREE
Jimmy clutched the mug of hot, watery chicken soup between his hands that were stiff from cold. He sat alone in one corner of the make-do living quarters. Three days had passed since Kevin was killed, and Jimmy's mind was making him suffer over it.
He watched with tired eyes the other young misfits who, like him, foolishly pledged themselves to something they didn't fully understand.
Whispers of murder and brutal beatings at the hands of their 'Boss' – that was the only name they were provided with for the masked man – were common among the boys, and Jimmy always understood these to be rumours or gross exaggerations; a form of entertainment in their dank, colourless world. But the most recent story to circulate the crowd was of the boy who had his windpipe crushed and his body dumped into the sewer waters. Jimmy knew this was no rumour; he was there, he saw it all, and he did nothing.
"It was the wickedest thing! The guy didn't even see it coming; the Boss's hand was like lightening. He grabbed the dudes neck and just squeezed. A second later and the kid dropped to the floor, stone dead. I can still hear the crunch and gurgle he made!" Jimmy overheard from within a group nearby. The reactions that followed were a prime example of the type of group mentality that seemed to have taken a hold of everyone.
"Shit, with one hand?"
"That's so cool. Why did he do it though?"
"The guy cut his leg up pretty bad, and Boss said there was no room for weaklings in his army, or something like that. So the guy got cut from the team." said the gossiper, sliding his hand across his neck like a knife, and they all laughed.
"Ha! What a pussy! Crying about a scratch? The wimp deserved it." another remarked with disgust.
Jimmy figured the admiration they had for their boss, and the contempt they had for anyone who seemed to oppose him, was their way of coping with the stress of being condemned to such an unpleasant situation. They all knew they were stuck here indefinitely. So they would act impressed by these stories, and see their Boss as the hero; everyone lying to themselves and to everyone else. At least that's how it was in the beginning.
From all that Jimmy had been seeing and hearing, it seemed like they had began to actually believe their own lies.
Every young man here was a different person than when he first joined; Jimmy saw these changes as they happened, and what he found most frightening was how little time it took.
They were no saints before this new life beneath Gotham, but he believed their morals and values, no matter how basic or twisted – arguably a consequence of the environment they grew up in – would not have had them seeing such heinous crimes in the light they did now; as a show of masculinity, as something to be admired and emulated.
As Jimmy observed them, his mind wandered to his brother Mark who he hadn't seen or spoken to, he realised, in almost six months. He wondered if his brother would still recognise him, or if he too had undergone such a dramatic transformation. Of course he had.
When Jimmy first began working in the sewers, the large chunks of concrete piled into the wheelbarrow would cause the bare, metal handles to dig painfully into his hands until large blisters formed. Overtime however, the skin had healed and callouses had formed, providing cushioning. It didn't make the work any less exhausting though.
Just as Jimmy was about to begin his journey with the haggard wheelbarrow, he saw a man approaching him. He recognised the man from the two occasions he saw the 'Boss'; the man was something akin to the Boss's second in command, and Jimmy had overheard some of the other soldiers call him Barsad.
Once Barsad realised Jimmy had saw that he was going over to him, he stopped and gestured with his head instead for the boy to follow him.
Grateful for a break from the laborious work, Jimmy carelessly dropped the wheelbarrow and jogged the short distance to Barsad, then slowed to walking behind him. Although Jimmy wasn't one for superstition, when he could not recognise the service corridor Barsad was leading him down he couldn't control the pools of sweat starting to grow in his palms and the sudden dryness in his throat when he remembered the events that followed the last time he couldn't recognise a section of the sewers. He prayed it wasn't a bad omen.
Barsad stopped in front of a metal door and produced from his pocket a key chain with a dozen or so keys on it; the door unlocked and opened with a loud grating noise that hinted at lack of use. He stood back and gestured for Jimmy to enter, who did so cautiously, taking note of the new environment.
Where once emergency equipment and tools sat on the large, rusted metal shelves that lined three walls, now in messy heaps were hundreds of guns of various sort, and boxes of ammunition were stacked high on the floor.
As Barsad joined Jimmy in the dusty, cramped room, closing the heavy-duty door behind him, the small space became even more closet-like.
"Your name is Jimmy?" Barsad asked as he manoeuvred around Jimmy and knelt down, rummaging on a lower shelf for something.
Clearing his throat, Jimmy nervously answered "Yes." his apprehension obvious. He watched as Barsad finally stood up and set a large, black, otherwise nondescript, duffel bag on the small metal table that was bolted to the ground in the centre of the room.
Barsad then began putting guns and ammo into the bag. As he was doing so, he said "Do not sound so worried. You've been here quite a while now, and so far you've worked well. Your efforts haven't gone unnoticed. Bane believes you have potential for greater things in this movement; you're being unofficially promoted to courier."
"Bane?" was all Jimmy asked, a second before he realised Barsad was in fact referring to their 'Boss'. Barsad glanced up at him as he closed the zip of the bag, but did not answer. He then lifted the strap and offered it to Jimmy.
Jimmy looked at the strap, considering. By taking it he would be accepting Bane's offer, and thus condoning Kevin's murder, and the murder's that would inevitably follow. He thought of the other young men he worked with, and how he did not want to be like them. He thought of Mark, and how ashamed he would be of his big brother if he knew what he'd gotten himself into. Jimmy looked at Barsad, who was looking back at him, waiting, evaluating.
Did he even have a choice? What would the consequences be if he refused the offer?
He now knew where the guns and ammo were stored; he'd been entrusted with their elusive boss's name. If he refused their offer it would probably be seen as direct disrespect to Bane's judgement and 'goodwill'. If Bane did not kill him for that, then the other workers would. This was a decision that his life depended on, and regardless of how he felt towards Bane and this movement, regardless of what his niggling conscious was telling him, Jimmy didn't want to die. Jimmy couldn't die. He had Mark to look out for; he had to work hard so that when Mark aged-out he was in a better position than Jimmy was.
With that, Jimmy took the strap from Barsad, who smirked and said "Good lad."
Sliding the bag off the steel table, Jimmy was not expecting it to weigh so much, and the large duffel fell to the floor with a loud thud. Barsad laughed slightly, but cautioned "Careful handling that. There's a lot of fire power in that bag."
Jimmy heaved it over his shoulder, then followed Barsad out of the small room. He hoped he'd never have to be in there again; the guns made him nervous and the humidity and closeness made him feel like he was suffocating. Barsad led them to a manhole Jimmy had never used.
"Consider this your trial. Go to an alley two blocks out the back of Daggett Industries. There you'll see two of our soldiers. That's who you're delivering too."
"Daggett Industries? But that's in the centre of Midtown, how am I suppose to make it there without being seen by cops? Isn't there sewer tunnels I can go through? What if I get caught?" Jimmy panicked. Were these guys crazy? It would take him hours to get there and come back, and he'd become quite unpopular among the local police from antisocial behaviour as a kid; if any of the ones who knew him saw him, especially with something as suspicious as a heavy duffel bag, they wouldn't be able to resist pestering him.
"These are Bane's orders." Barsad said sternly. "Like I said; consider this a trial. You've personally seen the consequence of failure." Jimmy knew he was referring to Kevin. "Bane is placing a lot of trust in you, do not disappoint him. Return here before sundown." and with that Barsad left Jimmy alone beneath the manhole cover.
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Once Officer Blake left, Sister Elizabeth had been hot on Cassandra's trail; she caught up with Cassandra and dragged her by her ear to the office she had occupied for over three decades. It was a long night, to say the least. The image of the missions furious Mother Superior in her nightgown was still in Cassandra's mind, but the dull ache in her ear made it less humorous.
Everyday Cassandra returned to the mission from school, she was met with the nun, now dressed in her habit, standing in the entrance hallway holding a bucket of cold water and a flimsy cloth. Cassandra had the painfully pointless task of cleaning the large expanse of floor belonging to an ugly room that was rarely used. With each dip of the dirty cloth in the bucket of water, Cassandra could feel herself becoming more and more angry.
Today would be the third day of her dated punishment, and thoroughly fed up with it as she was, she decided to take her time returning.
Since that night, Cassandra had not been able to return to her late-night routine, and the excitement of escaping death had all but worn off, while frustration and anger took its place. Without her usual regular activity, Cassandra felt greatly on edge and stressed out, with too much energy and nothing to expend it on. Not to mention the place were she spent nearly every night in for years was destroyed, and with that, an integral part of herself.
Living in a group home and having no known family meant Cassandra had very few personal possessions to her name; the construction site was more than just an area to practice parkour and the like. She saw it as her own special, secret place, where she could be truly free. But those assholes had ruined that for her.
Just then, in what must have been a moment of immense luck, Cassandra left behind her ruminations when she spotted Jimmy on the other side of the street. On his shoulder was a very large, very heavy looking duffel bag, and he was looking quickly about him. What had him so nervous, Cassandra was oblivious of.
When he swiftly turned down an alleyway, Cassandra was quick to throw her school bag behind a dumpster, and follow after him. She got to the alleyway and he wasn't too far ahead of her.
"Hey, you!" she shouted after him, with no response. She began to sprint toward him, and yelled "Jimmy!".
At the sound of his name, he abruptly stopped and swung around. When he saw it was only some girl, he returned to his journey, Cassandra now alongside him.
"Do I know you?" he asked, sounding rushed, then began searching the area around him once more.
"Probably not, but I sure as hell know you!" she was a girl on a justice seeking mission. He gave her a confused look, then picked up his pace.
"I'm busy, go away." his dismissal only added to the chip on her shoulder. She stormed after him, out the alley, across the next street and into another alley. He glanced back at her a few times, then began to say "Stop following me." he sounded frustrated but Cassandra didn't notice.
"I saw you, on Sunday, with those soldier guys at the constr-" She started, but was cut off as Jimmy grabbed her by the front of her hoodie and roughly shoved her back into a wall, holding her there.
"What did you say?" he yelled, and sounded furious, but the expression he wore was one of terror. When Cassandra didn't answer immediately, he pulled her forward then shoved her back again, this time knocking the wind out of her slightly.
"What did you just say?!" he yelled again.
Cassandra grabbed his wrists, pulling his hands off of her, then pushed him away from her, but Jimmy tried to reach for her again.
They struggled like this for a few minutes; pulling and shoving each other into walls and bins. To an onlooker it would have looked funny because neither of them knew how to fight properly, but both were trying to best the other, only to grow more angered with each fail.
Jimmy was surprised by this strange girls strength and her sneaky manoeuvres, and as their 'fight' continued he grew calmer and his rational returned to him as he vented the frustration and stress that had daunted him the last three days.
Although Cassandra was taken aback at first by the attack, when Jimmy tried to grab her again after she first pushed him away her rage only grew. Before she knew, she sloppily tackled Jimmy to the ground and began punching him.
It took Jimmy a few hits before he could grab hold of Cassandra's tightly balled fists and stop her onslaught.
"Get off me!" he yelled, although with not nearly as much fire as before, and he pushed her off him, and she allowed him, finally over the episode of rage.
They both lay on the filthy ground of the ageless alley, regaining their breathes and looking up at the clouded sky, a feeling of calmness enveloping them. Cassandra cradled her left fist, and Jimmy poked tenderly at his nose that was bleeding. They were both in their own realities, unaware of the other and the real world, as they came down from the brief high of releasing pent up emotions.
Their individual serenity didn't last long however, as the sound of near-by traffic permeated their senses, a plane flying overhead leaving a long white trail and reminding them of the rest of humanity, and a few pebbles digging into their backs reminding them exactly where they were currently lying.
When they were both back on their feet, literally and emotionally, they were plunged into an awkward silence, neither knowing how to proceed.
Jimmy had his sleeve pressed up to his nose, and Cassandra say that it was still bleeding. Feeling bad, but not at all regretting her actions, she pulled a tissue from her pocket and handed it to him. It was a small cheap one from her school cafeteria, but he accepted it with a murmured thanks.
He was at a loss for what he should do; before he was aloud to join the underground revolution and brought before Bane, they made it obvious that secrecy was a top priority. Jimmy accepted the job because he needed a place to live. He had no interest in their motives. But once he witnessed Kevin's murder, he finally realised just how serious those men were about their mission.
This girl had been there. She saw him and Bane's soldiers. And she was stupid enough to run through the streets shouting about it. If any of Bane's men heard her then, it would have meant not only her death, but also Jimmy's. But Jimmy didn't want anyone else around him to die, more importantly he didn't want himself to die.
If he hadn't been so paranoid and on edge, then he could have reacted better when she mentioned it. He could have played dumb and said he had no idea what she was talking about. It was too late for that now.
"Listen, whoever you are-" he tried.
"Cassandra." she interrupted.
"Okay, Cassandra. I'm sorry for attacking you like that-"
"Don't be. You can't fight for shit anyway."
"Wha- I can't fight for shit? Where'd you learn to throw a punch, from a four year old? And anyway, I wasn't actually trying, I was going easy on you, obviously." Jimmy defended. Cassandra looked shocked and was going to give her own witty reply back, but Jimmy remembered himself. "Wait. This isn't important." he lifted the duffel bag, that had been lost in the wrestling match, onto his shoulder before continuing.
"Are you going to go to the police?" he hesitantly asked. He wasn't sure what type of person she was, whether she could be trusted or not. He felt like he was treading dangerous waters.
"It's all over the news, you know, what you did. It's a massive police investigation." Cassandra wanted to make him sweat. "My information could be priceless to them." Jimmy looked at her in shock and panic, but also with slight disappointment.
"Of course I'm not going to go to the cops!" she said, exasperated that he believed her. He relaxed slightly. "I'm pissed off though that those soldiers blew the site up, trying to kill me in the process!"
"Where were you and what were you doing anyway?" he asked, curious as to her part in that nights events.
"I was on a rooftop, and it's none of your business." she said pointedly.
Jimmy looked up at the sky, ignoring her rudeness; the sun had passed its peak and was beginning to crawl back down to the horizon. Time was running out.
"Um, okay. I'm sorry for all that happened to you, but I have nothing to do with those guys. If you want someone to blame and shout at, it's them you want to look for. But believe when I say you don't want to find those guys." he quickly explained, trying to end this nonsense.
"Why, who are they?" She just wouldn't stop.
"You know what, I don't even know. They offered me a bit of money to do that one thing for them, and I accepted because I needed the money for food. I haven't seen or heard from them since." he lied. "You should probably just forget about them. For your own good. They were all pricks anyway."
Cassandra took a second to consider what Jimmy was saying and all the new information she had just learned. Jimmy didn't deny that the men were soldiers, which begged the question what were soldiers doing in Gotham and why were they destroying construction sites? It was obvious to Cassandra that Jimmy was eager to leave; she didn't believe for a second his claim that he had nothing more to do with the two men that night, and his paranoid behaviour earlier and the duffel bag seemed too suspicious to let pass.
It was also obvious to Cassandra that Jimmy didn't trust her, and was underestimating her. Usually this would have annoyed her, but in this case Cassandra realised she could use it to her advantage.
"'Pricks', huh?" she laughed weakly, "Well, I guess there's nothing else to say. I promise I won't talk to anyone about Sunday night. You can trust me. See you around?" she tried to end their exchange quickly, to which Jimmy looked relieved.
"Thank you. Goodbye." With that, Jimmy turned on his heel and continued walking briskly toward the mouth of the tunnel, but after he had discarded the now red and breaking apart tissue onto the ground.
He looked back once to see Cassandra already walking in the opposite direction.
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Two of Bane's men stood against a wall, one smoking a cigarette. A third slowly paced the breadth of the alley. There were no weapons visible on the men, although Jimmy didn't doubt the were armed, even if only with handguns. They could still kill me, if they wanted to, Jimmy thought. The idea that this was some sort of elaborate set up that lead inevitably to his execution had done more than cross his mind.
They spotted him immediately as he stepped into the narrow space.
The pacing one sauntered over to Jimmy. He was chewing gum. When he reached Jimmy, he took the duffel from him, pulling it off his shoulder, then passed it to one of the other men who then exited the alley with it.
The man was looking at the dried blood around Jimmy's nose, and asked him, "Did you run into trouble on your way?". The man had an eastern European accent, and he looked over Jimmy's head, searching for any sign of police.
"No cop saw me."
The man only nodded, satisfied. He then searched in his pocket, taking out a white envelope. He handed it to Jimmy.
"Give this to Bane." the man said, and then he moved in closer to Jimmy. "Do not look in it." he said while staring intently at him. The threat was obvious, but Jimmy felt it was unnecessary; there was no way he would ever cross Bane.
With a gulp, he nodded, then turned to leave the alley. The two remaining men stood and watch him go, before the looked at one another and laughed, then left the other way, back to Daggett Industries.
Cassandra sat on a fifth floor fire escape platform using large flower pots as coverage, as she spied Jimmy leaving the alleyway, the duffel bag absent.
He was making his way towards yet another alleyway when Cassandra saw a police cruiser turning into the seat. Jimmy also seen this, as he quickly made a tangent in the opposite direction of the police car, moving quickly out of their sight. The car pulled to a stop outside a home, and from the car emerged, Cassandra recognised, Officer Blake.
She had no time to watch Blake, as Jimmy had just turned a street corner, out of her sight. She quickly moved to make her way down the flights of rickety stairs, making sure to stay out of view of the police car. Cassandra walked the same way Jimmy had, with her hood now up to keep her face covered. Keeping a safe distance, and occasionally stopping to pretend to look into shop windows, she intended to follow Jimmy back to wherever it was he was staying, hoping to find out more about these soldiers secretly operating within Gotham, and who, if anyone, were controlling them.