2. Name
The train practically hugged the mountain as it zoomed among lush countryside. Within the cabin, Cassandra sat at the window, taking in the vivid landscape. She watched the overgrowth among the trees. The animals that moved through bushes in escape and pursuit of each other. Wolfs chasing deer and doe. Rabbits evading the sly fox.
Her eyes moved at the sound of another entering the cabin. An older lady pushing a trolley. The lady smiled at her, but continued on. Cassandra made it clear earlier, kindly mind you, that she wanted to be left alone. She was the only occupant in this part of the train, more out of simple convenience than actual choice. She preferred it to crowds anyway. There were very few she would bother associating with, even now.
The thought pushes her to check her burner phone. Tim insisted she have something to keep in contact. She accepted it, although not contacting them directly, it gave her a sense of belonging... of family. Few had her number. She could know who almost right away by the message alone. She pulled the phone out of the duffel bag between her feet. Booting it up, she smiled as she read Tim's message.
"Titans managed to stop Cinderblock in his tracks. Guy almost derailed a freight train. Still backpacking in Europe?"
Tim was one of the more consistent ones. He often just asked how she was, what she was doing or seeing. Otherwise he made small talk of the Titans activities. Barbara kept her messages minimum, though she promised to update her if anything about David King came up. Richard seemed insistent on sending her the occasional 'safe' photos of friends and outgoings, and internet jokes. Memes? Not sure what they were or even how to pronounce it. In spite of that a simple smile or frown would suffice for Richard.
Bruce... did not contact her at all. Being who he was, however, that made sense. He did tell her, in person, She was welcome to return to Gotham. That there would always be a place for her there. Even Richard mentioned that she was welcome in Bludhaven. He compared it to Gotham, more or less, definitely not better.
Perhaps soon she would settle somewhere. If for a time. Not now though, she was still just wandering. She did not want to work with a team like the Titans either. Right now she wanted to avoid fighting. She wanted time to think. No one telling her to fight or kill.
She typed a response to Tim. Her smile disappearing as soon as it had arrived. The train zoomed into a tunnel, engulfing the cabin in blackness.
Soft
Soft, like sheets. His brain must have been scrambled like eggs if the ground felt like this. No, this must be heaven. He was gracefully rewarded in the afterlife for getting beaten to death. On second thought, Where is god? why does my body hurt. Dear god my body hurts.
He attempts to speak. His throat is dry and his voice barely escapes his mouth. One eye opens, the other remains dark. Looking around he sees slate grey walls. A window is on his left. Although he can't see it, he sees the rays of light hitting the wall on his right. The sunlight shines a bronze cross hanging on the wall, right besides the door.
Attempting to move sends pain to his ribcage. he barely got a few inches up before his nerves flared. He tries to even his breathing. He must have made noise, as the door opens. The man that walks in seems nicely kept. Dark hair was combed back, a White dress shirt properly buttoned with black slacks.
"Good. You have awoken. We thought you would be out for much longer." The man rolls up his sleeves and takes a seat on his right. He presses a hand to his 'patients' forehead. "No fever it seems, but how are you actually feeling?"
"Pain." He manages to croak out. The stranger gets up.
"My apologies, let me get you some water." The man seems to disappear through the door. He can hear him somewhat in the other room. "Audrey darling, can you wake Belle? Let her know her rescuer is conscious." The man returns with a cup and a gallon sized serving glass. He sets it down on the table. He reaches out, putting one hand behind 'John' to gently tilt his head forward.
The water is cool. An oasis of relief, he can feel the tightness in his throat loosen substantially. The dry feeling in his mouth disappears, and his body feels rejuvenated, if only a bit better than before. The man pulls the cup back.
"More?" he inquires.
"Please sir." 'John' responds, as he takes in the mans features. He was certainly older, but no more than his late thirties. He has small lines on his face, but nothing to imply early aging. The man fills the cup again, and resumes.
"Please, sir makes me feel older than I already am. You can call me Father Duncan or just Duncan, if you feel so."
At that moment a woman rushes into the room. She stops as she is past the doorway. 'John' can recognize the woman almost immediately from the night before. 'She's ok." She wears a different top now. A T-shirt with a jean jacket. Her dark blonde hair is disheveled, as she had just woken up.
"Father, how is he?" She asks timidly.
"Alive and aware Belle, praise god." Duncan responds. he looks over to 'John'. "Recognize her? She saved your life."
"After he saved mine, a stupid move. But he did." She wrapped her arms around herself, looking at him. "Thank you"
Duncan frowned at her. "Should he have left you to your fate, with those vile heathens?"
"They had him three to one. They damn near beat him to death, and for what? A whore?" 'How does that justify what they were going to do to you?
"Perhaps this is a sign. You are better than that. Leave that life dear." Duncan argues, calmly. 'Thank you Duncan.' It was hard to get his voice out, thankfully Duncan filled in. This sounded like a song and dance played before. They sounded like friends, at the very least. She smiled, but it was a sad smile.
"You know that's not happening." She responds. 'John' mumbles words at her. Both pause to look at him. "What's up? What are you saying."
"don't...regret it...you...worth it." Her cheeks reddened, Hearing the first words come out of her saviour's mouth. Hearing someone claim she was of value, someone like her.
"You wouldn't say that if you knew the people I hang around... where I have been."
"Doesn't...matter... you don't... deserve... that."
"Belle, you put yourself too low. How many would come back for a stranger? Drag them through rain to get them shelter?" 'Exactly!'
"I'm just lucky you were home. He is lucky he didn't die of exposure." 'That too!' "We are not even sure if his eye will be okay."
" I will change his bandages soon, we will find out then. And now that he is speaking, perhaps we can find answers." He looks to 'John'.
"What is your name?"
'Oh'
What would he tell them? What can he tell them? "I am nobody. Nice to meet you!" They were looking at him now, and he was starting to feel anxiety build up. 'You were honest with the cop, and he got you cloths and a place to get info. Why lie to the religious man of all people?' Deciding with no other option, he once again decides to wing it.
"I don't...remember...police called me...John..for...convenience." Duncan's brow furrowed.
"The police called you John? They didn't find a file for you?"
"None...existed...anywhere." He can hear Belle inhale hard. Duncan frowns.
"How long ago was this? how long have you not remembered?"
"Yesterday." Duncan breathes deeply. He lays a hand on 'John's good shoulder.
"Truly a lost soul, and of all places Gotham." Duncan says gently gripping his Shoulder. "And to be beaten so savagely for doing what's right
"Like I said...She didn't..deserve it." His voice was slowly but surely getting stronger. Words were flowing easier.
"Well for now We can shelter you, at the least to let you recover."
"Hold up," Belle jumps into the conversation again. " He deserves a name. A REAL name. I know way too many 'Johns', And he is definitely not a John."
"That is true, but in due time. I know it would not be in print, but we can try to find a name for you." Duncan " Would you like that?"
"Yes...please.." 'John feels his voice start to slur. His eyelid feel heavier with each blink. "Thank-"
Duncan's patient falls to sleep mid sentence. He simply pulls the covers back over him properly. He turns to Belle.
"It doesn't make sense." She starts immediately. "Even I know the leaps and bound technology has made. I've been to the precinct myself once or twice. But he has nothing? Not one file? In Gotham? Hell the world?!"
"Belle calm." He starts. Then motions them to leave the room. Duncan shuts the door as he exits. They walk through the hall. "There are still many in this world with no name to call their own. He is not unique in that regard. "He is healing fast, a bit too fast. Compared to what you brought in last night, he shouldn't even be awake."
"So what are you gonna do?" Belle
"What I said I would, let him recover. Hopefully find him a name. The police called him John? Like John Doe?"
"There are plenty of names Father, lets give him one that doesn't blend with the crowd?" She looks at him again. "Besides that, he saved my life. I don't want to associate him with my clientele." They entered a small kitchen area. Belle walked over to lean by the sink.
"I was serious Belle. You do not have to live that life. I know its a struggle-"
"Duncan, please. The people I know... I put myself in a bad spot. Even before last night... I'll have to show my face eventually." She turned around, laying her palms on the aging counter. " It was just another night on the job, they just weren't interested in paying." Duncan grimaces. A heavy sigh come from his lips.
"I'll never try to control you Belle. I know you have the power, but I'll drop it for now. We need to find a name for our new friend. Let me find my book."
"The Bible?"
"The one." Finding it, he picks up his long read and worn copy of the Bible. His brow creases in thought, and he looks at her " Would Moses be too blunt?"
"How about Jesus?"
"You are hilarious." He deadpans.
He awakes with a start a few hours later. He is able to pull himself upright, the pain receding, but still present. The skin on his back shows patterns of dark blue and purple. Looking to the side he can see clothing he received from the police yesterday. He touches the blind side of his face, feeling bandages around his eye. The medical tape wrapped around his cranium holding it in place.
Grunting, he pulls the blanket off, rotating himself slowly. His feet touch carpeted flooring, sucking in a breath, he stands upright. A sigh of relief escapes him when he doesn't collapse in pain. He winces a bit stepping over to the shelf.
There were small signs of damage from the beating, but the fabric felt freshly washed. Grabbing the pants and hoodie he went back to the bed. He dealt with his pants first, struggling slightly to get a foot in. When this was done he went for his hoodie. When finally dressed, he Reaches over to the glass of water left on the bedside. Its downed in a single go.
Getting up from the bed, he stepping towards the doorway. Hearing voices down the hall he walks slowly and quietly towards them. As he gets closer, he can make out Duncan and Belle's voices.
"-about Simon? Wouldn't be a bad fit."
"Boring and nerdy."
"Joseph?"
"I don't feel it."
"What do you feel?"
"...Judas?"
"Belle, come on now." He steps into the entryway. Duncan and Belle are sitting at a small table in a barren looking kitchen. Both are nursing cups of coffee. Belle was about to sip as she spotted him. Her eyes widened.
"Jesus!"
"Belle that's- oh wow. You're awake." Duncan gets up from the table. " Surprised you are up, how are you feeling?"
" A...bit better." The pause is more from hesitation now. He looks to Belle. "I might have a passing resemblance, but I don't think the 'Messiah' would appreciate it." Duncan interjects here.
"I believe he would forgive, but find a better name for you. Come, sit. Coffee?" He takes the closest seat, by Duncan. It was not preference for one or the other. If not for either he could be in a severe situation, even dead. He certainly trusted both at a level equal to Officer Hewitt. Thinking back on the man, and the city he protected, Hewitt treated him very well. It probably helped that he was the farthest thing from a clown.
"Yes, please." Duncan got up and walked over to the counter for a cup. Belle moved closer While Duncan was pouring brew. He hair was more properly combed now, pulled into a loose ponytail.
"We have been looking for a name that fits you." She said. "We've been looking through the Bible- "
"By that she means I suggest a name, and she shoots it down." Duncan sets the cup in front of him. "If you don't mind. I would like to take those bandages off you're face. See how you're eye is doing?" Looking down with his good eye, he instead asks Duncan:
"Why? why do this for me? Why the effort?" Duncan looks at him, there is no hesitation.
"It is the right thing to do." Duncan says. He can't accept that
"I am a stranger. You don't know me." He voices it as such.
"I'm pretty sure you did not know Belle. Yet last night, you threw yourself against the odds, just to give her a chance. There are few men I know of in this city that would do that. Not a single one of them are monsters."
"I could very well be one." He was on the cold floor of a dark alley for a reason, any reason. For all he knew, the 'Batman' was out there looking for him now. Yet last night, that shadow..
"No, sorry but no." Belle interjects, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Do not think I forgot what you said a few hours back. If you were a monster, you wouldn't say that, not as you were."
"If you were, perhaps the lord took your memory as a blessing. A chance to do things better."
"Maybe..."
"Well maybe we can get you a name so that we can call you something? Besides John?" He didn't forget her reason to dislike calling him John. Even as officer Hewitt made it for the sake of convenience, he could still recognize the term John Doe. It came up enough during his internet 'surf'. He'd rather have a name for him, a name meant for somebody. He decided to poke fun at Belle.
"Sure, how about Simon?" He said.
"Again. Would you like that bandage off?" Duncan brings up again. He nods. "Alright hold still now." Duncan gently pulls off the bandage covering his eye. Once it is off, he realizes he can still see. It hurts a little, and he's squinting a bit. Better than losing an eye.
"Well look at that, The swelling stopped entirely..." Duncan did not say more. "From what I remember last night. You are very fortunate."
"Fortunate... blessed...!" With a sudden zeal Belle starts coming through some papers. Yanking out a specific sheet, her eyes scroll down before she Jabs her finger down.
"Asherel, meaning fortunate, lucky."
"Fitting Belle, But somewhat strange to tell people. Do you see Asher?" Duncan inquires. Her eyes scroll down, must have been a list.
"Asher, happy, blessed." She looks at him. "How do you feel about this name?"
"I...like it...I really like it." Him
"We can even call you Ash for short." Belle quips. "Hail to the king baby." She and Duncan share a laugh, he doesn't quite understand, but he can't help but laugh too.
4 weeks later
"Sorry, uh, Ash was it? We are not hiring."
"What, job? you got no papers, I will be in more trouble than you!"
"No."
"I can't write a check to nobody. Doesn't matter what you call yourself. Pen. Ink."
"Not hiring."
"Sorry friend, try the guys across the street."
"Yeah sorry friend, how about the Guys across the street?"
"You seem like a nice guy but..."
Jesus, that last one sounded like a bad second date. Thing is he didn't even get the first interview. Another day, another bust. Officer Hewitt didn't lie to him. It was gonna get much harder from here on out.
Pulling his hood over, and zipping his worn jacket tight, Asher headed back to the church. The coat was made of a jean-like material, donated to him by Father Duncan. It slipped over his bland hoody just fine.The church became a sanctuary for him courtesy of Father Duncan. It was not a permanent shelter, The City would crack down on the Father fast for harbouring homeless. It was enough of a risk he took allowing Asher to recover, even for the week. He would have to depend on Libraries that remained open overnight most days of the week. He would get kicked out if he slept however, so he didn't risk it, too often at least.
Once Asher recovered, he set out to find a job. It was easier said than done, the last three weeks he set out to find work. Each place denied him, it was easy to see why. No form of ID, no bank account, it was a risk on them more often than not. He couldn't blame them, but it didn't feed him.
He entered the Church as the sun set. He went passed the prayer area, heading downstairs. He gave a smile and wave to Sister Audrey as she passed. The Sisters would question him, had he been anyone else. Duncan gave him his trust, so they did as well. He would be eyed at first, but he became a normal sight over the last three weeks.
It was the sound of hard impacts that leas him to Duncan, not that he needed it. The father was in sweatpants and a tank top, his Church cloths set aside. He gave the punching bag a three hit combo, sending it upward before falling back now. The heavy chain rattled as the bag swayed. Duncan looked over as he grabbed his water bottle.
"Asher, Good to see you." Duncan says as he takes a swig of water. Asher's Jacket and hoodie are shedded, leaving him in a tank top.
"Father, you get started without me?" Asher says as he puts on his own pair of fingerless gloves.
"Come now, just warming up. Ready for some one one one?" Duncan asks.
"You bet." Asher says, the two men take their positions in the center of the room.
Belle told Asher that Duncan used to be army, and a part of the boxing club. She pestered Duncan to teach him self defense. Once he properly healed, Duncan agreed. At least every other day, Asher was taught basic CQC. Duncan had been out of the military for some time. While he may not have been a professional boxer, he held his own.
Asher figured he had to in this city. He learned a lot from Duncan, and he learned fast. The two could spar confidently, enough to hold small talk as they started.
"So how did the search go?" Duncan sent a strike. Asher blocked, attempting to throw a counter-punch. It was blocked. Asher backed off.
"Same, 'you're a nice guy, but no.'" He came back at duncan with two low hits. Duncan ducked and weaved, before returning the favor. Asher pulled back.
"A shame, are the construction guys giving you temp work?" Duncan asked, fists back up in a defensive position. Asher was able to find work in some of the construction sites aroun Gotham. They offered shifts for the day, pay at the end, cash only. If it was illegal, people weren't doing much about it. It got Asher some cash for food, so he wasn't mooching off of Duncan's good will all the time.
The two circled each other.
"They shut down today. Its getting too cold."
"I'm sorry to hear that." They moved.
forty-five minutes later both are sitting, letting their bodies recover. Duncan offers Asher a second water bottle. He took a swig before speaking.
"I walked by the shelters, people are getting turned away."
"Already? The Wayne foundation can't get that bill passed fast enough." Duncan wiped his brow with a hand towel.
"Will it help in the long run? I can't remember much still, but the planet seems to get not so friendly visitors more often than not." Invasions from hostile species occured before, and Asher had no doubt he'll see the next soon enough. Metropolis may have been a hotspot, but everyone was effected at some point.
"We cannot afford to do nothing. I wish I could do more here, but my hands are tied."
"You took me in when I needed it. I know you do what you can." He took a sip of water. "How does a man of the cloth know how to box?" Duncan almost smirked at him.
"I grew up in a different City, New York, although it can be argued that Gotham is worse. More or less the same to me, just some carjackers like face paint. Hells kitchen is where I grew up, dad was apart of the boxing club. Naturally I learned how to fight. I was pretty aggressive in my youth, but I learned where to watch it. Mobsters had their fingers in the piles like anybody else." He began bagging his workout gear.
"Not much later I joined the army, wanted to get out. I joined my bases Boxing club, spent what time I had there. Served four years, saw enough. I came home, became a man of cloth, and now I am here."
"You have to deal with the clowns ever?"
"Once or twice. I handled them. You need to shower friend, you know the way, go."
It was twenty minutes later, cleaned and redressed that Asher sat at a pew. He was reading a worn paperback lent to him by Duncan. 'Lord of the flies', interesting enough.
"Finished it yet?" Duncan asked, properly dressed and combed. You wouldn't have matched him with the boxer seen only a half -hour or so ago.
"Actually already did, rereading for better context." Asher replied.
"Good to know you enjoy it, here." Asher catches a thrown package. Its just some fiber bars, but its food.
"Duncan, you can't-"
"Yes I can, I cannot house everyone, but I will give to those in need."
"I-Thank you." Asher admires the soft candle glow illuminating the Church. "I don't know how I will ever repay what you've done for me."
"You can start by never giving up. It is rough out there, you don't need a seer to tell you it will get rougher, but I know you can persevere."
"Thank you Father. Goodnight."
"Goodnight Asher."
Asher leaves the church in a better mood than before. He chows on a fiber bar as he walks down the street. He relishes each bite, as he couldn't know for sure when the next time he eats comes.
He looks up at Gotham's tall buildings, The skyscrapers built among Gothic architecture. Sometimes, the night seemed to bleed a menacing red. Ironically that might bring people in for the view, the rich that is. They were probably in those tall buildings now, late meetings, early parties. Their worries were from from the concerns of gutteral trash.
He didn't blame them, despite that, at least not generally. He was sure for every Bruce Wayne there was an opposite. A serpent in human skin, making life better for those whose lives were already better. Those who walk over the downtrodden.
He made his way to an underside bridge, where some tents were set up. He became familiar with some of the homeless communities in this city. Most were good people, their luck throwing them overboard at the worst time. Some did delve into drugs, yes, but plenty didn't start out like that.
The crying got his attention immediately. He quickened his pace over to the dark haired woman crying outside her tent. The little girl beside her, got up and ran into Asher's legs. Dress in a worn and torn dark blue coat, she didn't cry, but her sad face looked up at Asher.
"Mistah Ash, please help mommy. She is crying again." Asher picked up the six-year old, resting her on his hip.
"Did daddy make June upset again Sara?"
"You're damn right he did." The woman, June, sniffed. "Devin was getting better, WE were getting better. Than he gets himself fired again. doped up on the job. Now his stupid ass is blacked out in the tent."
Devin and June Patterson were among the first he got acquainted with in this city. Devin was a well payed businessman some years back. He took the fall for a botched product, lost everything. June was a stay at home mother, the carpet pulled from under them. Their daughter, Sara, got her mom's looks but dad's blonde hair. She met him first. She went to him in the library, she held up a book asking him:
"Can you tell me what this book is about? Mama don't have time."
June came over of course, apologizing to him. A conversation was struck, and that's how he learned of the temp work the construction sites were offering. He met Devin than, who was not a bad man, but certainly made bad choices. Asher would shelter with them and find temp work with Devin. He was a good worker, from what Asher saw. Last time they spoke Devin found something steady, make enough to get off the streets.
Now they were here.
"Damn, I'm so sorry June, what was he doing? for his job I mean?"
"It was so goddamn simple, he was cheap maintenance, the Red Light District. He could have worked his way up. Instead he got high, made a mess...fucking idiot bastard." That wasn't good, Winter is practically here. Their tent won't be enough.
"I'm sorry June, do you think they could be hiring still?" Looking at him, she wipes her eyes.
"What will you do? apply?"
"Honestly, yes. The cold is gonna settle in, I won't let you freeze." Asher pulls out his package of bars Duncan gave him. "Here, ration these. I'm gonna go. Red light District? around there?"
"Now? Ash they are gonna throw you out!"
"June I can take no for an answer, but I gotta try. You can't stay on these streets, Sara can't I... can't afford to do nothing." He gives Sara a brief hug. "Goodnight, stay warm with your mom tonight okay?"
"Okay Mistah Ash. Night night."
The air is getting colder. It's his steady pace that keeps him warm. Snow has no fallen yet, but the leaves are long dead, grounded into cement. Into nothingness. Asher isn't ignorant, he knew what Red Light District meant. It was a hotzone for criminal activity, prostitutes and drugs, usually both. Black markets and gambling not far behind.
Asher couldn't house every single homeless person he has met, but he could help them. June and Sara were special, he couldn't deny it. Temperatures were already records low this fall. He could have froze to death had he stayed naked. Than good people helped him. He couldn't stand the thought of a girl so young, lips blue, breath still. He had to try.
June was right though, many denied him at a glance. Asher knew his place, he backed off when told no. But there had to be a place willing, they gave Devin a job didn't they?
Than he saw it. The lettering glowed hot red against Glass. It called to him from the distance. He jogged over, not exactly believing it.
HELP WANTED-ALL WELCOME TO APPLY
Looking above at the sign he noted the simple yet intricate lettering. The picture above it depicting a bird holding an umbrella. Ice and snow decorating the top, shielding the bird from cold. He read out loud to himself.
"The Iceberg Lounge."