Author's Note:

Thank's for the comments! I'm just letting you know that there is implied bad language in parts of Hell's City -- but none of it will actually be said. Also, look out for mild gore ; )

CHAPTER 5

Meet Up Beat Up

"...Ugh..." Bruce cringed as he walked through the sewers. The ground was sticky with lichen and mold, plants growing from cracks in the walls. Tree roots had errupted through the ceiling, reaching out like a fan. "This place stinks."

"What do you expect?" Harvey said in front of them, shining a torch into the darkness. "It ain't gonna smell like purfume, that's for sure."

Bruce said nothing more, his eyes trying not to focus on the liquid that was flowing from the grates beside him. Their footsteps bounced from the curved walls, travelling into the seemingly endless void ahead.

"How much further, Harvey?" Jim called out from behind.

"Shouldn't be much longer now," he answered, pointing a finger out in front of him. "It's through there."

As the door loomed up above them, Harvey produced a silver key and used it to unlock the bolts attached to it. It creaked inward, the wood bowing slightly. They stepped inside, closing the door behind them. A torchlit staircase winded up, the stone dripping with water droplets that had collected over the years.

"Come on," he lead them on until they reached yet another heavy door. "Right, on the other side of the door is the top of the main corridor in the basement. I'm pretty sure some of Jerome's punks will be knocking round but they won't be here."

"How do you know?" Bruce asked.

" 'Cause I can see the other side..." Harvey had his head pressed up against the wall, his left eye peeking though a crack. "Coast's clear, let's go before we get caught."

He opened the door and, dragging Bruce behind him, he and Jim scurried into the corridor. The door closed behind them, showing nothing more that a bookcase behind. The trio hid just across the way so they could stay out of sight.

Jim shook his head. "I can't believe I never found that door..."

"We need to get upstairs," Bruce cut in. "From there we can get to Jerome and hopefully flush him out of the building."

"Okay, let's get going. We don't know how much time we have..." Jim nodded, leading them through the corridors. They crept through the lower building, avoiding the patrolling men that marched from room to room.

They suddenly clung to the wall, drawing their weapons at the sight of two punks walking together.

"Hm," a punk with red hair and piercings shook his head. "I heard the Valeska's are working together."

"Where d'you get that from?" a punk with green hair said with a laugh. "I was told they were planning to kill each other."

The redhead suddenly stopped. "Hey... you hear that?"

"Yeah," he laughed. "It's the sound of you chatting--" he drew his gun. "Wait, I hear it... I think it's coming from over there."

The green haired punk began to advance on the trio's hiding spot, Jim suddenly darting out and firing his pistol. There was a brief thud as his target fell to the floor.

"Huh...?" the redhead spun around, his eyes staring for a moment before marching past. "Who's there?! You betta come out or I'm gonna kill ya..."

"You'll kill us anyway." Harvey fired two bullets, the punk dropping. He reloaded his gun. "Let's get out of here..."

They made a move up to the ground floor, taking a flight of steps that lead into the open. Around the corner was a large group of Jerome's bodyguards. Bruce narrowed his eyes.

"How are we gonna get past them?" he whispered.

"How else...?" Harvey ran forward, Jim and Bruce following cautiously as the guards noticed them.

"Hey!"

They had a target for each of them. Jim tackled the largest: a man carrying a heavy-duty mallet in his left hand, while Harvey took on someone who appeared to only use his bare hands to fight. Bruce ducked as a knife flew over his head, burying itself into the wood of a table. It had been launched from a rather scrawny-looking punk with a thin body. His black hair was shaved on one side messily, sticking up with some parts longer than the others.

"Hey kid," his voice was high and raspy. "I heard your name is Bruce, well I'm Nightmare... It's nice to meet you."

"Oh, really..." Bruce growled, pulling the pistol put in front of him. "You don't seem much of a nightmare."

There was a blur as Nightmare pounced, throwing him to the ground. He had a second knife pointed to his temple. "Look's can be deceiving..." he cooed.

Nightmare let out a strangled gasped as Harvey's opponent toppled over him. "Bah," he hissed from under the guard's body. "Gerroff me."

The punk lifted himself up and, noticing the man was deceased, he gave Bruce a jagged smile.

Meanwhile, Harvey had joined Jim's fight. The mallet hit the ground, dust and bits of concrete flying into the air as the gaurd swung it back over his shoulder.

"Thank's, Harvey." Jim said. "I could use some help over here..."

"I figured." Harvey shot out the answer as they dodged another swing.

He fired a bullet that embedded itself into the gaurds skin, who fell back on his heels as blood pattered onto the floor. Nightmare was advancing on Bruce with a hatchet in each hand, swinging them left and right smoothly.

"Here Brucie, Brucie, Brucie..." he grinned, apparently unaware of Jim and Harvey's presence. "I just wanna give ya a lil' present."

The was a bang. It echoed through the building, a heavy thud following. Nightmare was on the ground, blood seeping around his clothes as the hatchets slipped from his hands. A door creaked closed above them, a shadow passing behind it.

"Full of hot air," Harvey sighed. "Just like the rest of 'em." he gestured to the two other men.

"I heard it from in here...!" said a voice from down the corridor. Footsteps were fast approaching.

"We can't hold them off..." Bruce said. "There's too many of them!"

Harvey yelled over the noise cascading through the building. "We need a plan, Jim!"

"It's ok, I've got this..." They turned to stare at Bruce. "If you guys hold them back for as long as possible, I might just be able to cut Jerome off."

"Bruce, no." Jim shook his head. "It's too dangerous,"

"This is Gotham, not a day goes by where it isn't dangerous,"

"The kid's got a point."

"Not helping, Harvey..." Jim scowled. "This is ludicrous! He'll kill you with half the chance."

"No, he won't. I'm sure of it," Bruce's eyes darted to the door as the first wave of punks entered the room. "Jim, we don't have any time!"

He nodded. "Go, but be careful... you know what he's like."

"I will."

Bruce took the steps two at a time until he reached the second floor, the gunshots suddenly becoming white noise. He put his palm on the cold metal of the door knob.

He breathed in and out. "...Here goes nothing..."

The door opened, revealing a room with upturned tables and paint embedded into the carpet. Toilet roll was stuck to the ceiling with what appeared to be masking tape. At the centre of the room, was a sofa with the sponge ripped out of the cushions. Jerome was sprawled out along its length. His eyes were closed, but he was clearly awake; he was humming a rather cheerful tune.

"Jerome,"

Jerome's eyelids flicked open as he jumped up onto the floor. He smiled at Bruce, waltzing forward with his hands interlocked behind his back. Stopping at the nearest upright table in front of Bruce, he grinned, his yellow-stained teeth gleaming in the dull rays of sunlight.

"Heya, Brucie! It's good to see you, ya know. We haven't seen each other in AGES." Jerome gripped the underside of the table and pulled close to him, his breath blowing into Bruce's face. "I don't like to be away from my bwest fweind..."

Bruce scowled at his mockery. "I'm not your best friend, Jerome."

His green eyes danced mischievously. "Oh, of couse I'm not." he hit his hands against his sides and straightened his back. "My brother is. Jeremiah, that goody-two-shoes little brat... what difference does it make, Bruce?! We're identical twins!"

"He's not my best friend either," Bruce kept his head cool. It was no use snapping at him.

Before throwing his head back with laughter, Jerome gasped and put his hand on his chest. "Oh, that's not very nice is it, Brucie?" his mouth stretched into something resembling a straight line. "Hm... if it's not me, and it's not Miah... who is it?" he jumped up and down in realisation. "Oh, oh, oh...! Is it Selina? Ya know, the one Jeremiah shot?"

Bruce felt a stab of anger. He reached for his pistol, but then thought twice. He'd never win against Jerome.

He sucked in a breath. "Ah, still a little tender on that subject, are we?" Jerome fell backwards in a fit of giggles. "Ah-hoo-hoo-hoo... Brucie, you really are a serious kiddo. Don't you know? Laughter is the best medicine..."

Bruce crossed his arms, avoiding the weapon at all costs. After all, he wasn't here to kill him.

"Ehehehe," his hand slid into his jacket. "Still, you must still be a little delirious after the incident with Kean."

So he knows what happened...

"You took a quite a blow to the head," Jerome's eyes widened. "Oh... I guess you're a serious delirious." he trailed a gloved hand over the back of his head. "Geez, I'm turning into Tetch..."

There was a flash of sliver as he brought a handgun up to Bruce's forehead. Jerome had an arm gripped around his throat.

"And that's enough chit-chat from me..." Jerome coughed. "Tell me, Bruce, why exactly did they send you up here alone?"

"Because I know you won't kill me."

He tilted his hand from side to side. "Hm, that's correct. But that doesn't mean I can't hurt you... really, really bad."