Xander walked down the dirty street and tried to ignore the looming rain cloud that seemed perpetually locked over the city.
Night was coming and Xander had nowhere to go, he had lost his job three days ago when a bigmouthed air rat had squealed to Xander's bosses he had been using a fake ID to work.
//Like anyone's going to believe I'm the artificial clone of Doomsday from an alternate universe where everyone here is a comic book character… but sorry I can't remember any of it.// Xander snorted at the thought of the reaction he would get with that story.
Of course, since Xander made the mistake of grumbling about the squirrel man near his landlord, Xander quickly found himself without a home as the oily little troll had wanted nothing to do with anyone that had the bat upset with them.
With a snarl, Xander sent a can clattering down the alley with a kick.
He followed its path down the litter filled street until its movement was stopped by another foot.
This one belonging to a leather clad punk with an actual pink spiked Mohawk.
Xander stared at the man's hair for several seconds before looking behind him at the gathered individuals. All had hair at least as bizarre.
Shaking his head at the absurdity of it all, Xander looked back at the lead punk before blinking. "I'm sorry, I was ignoring you, did you say something?"
The leader's face turned a surprising shade of red before he growled at Xander again. "I said this is the Anarchist's turf, and you made a mistake coming here. Now either pay the toll or we're gonna plant you."
Xander looked at the gathered street toughs and frowned, "You know, if you had tried to roll me yesterday I'd probably just toss you a couple bucks and let it be, but today..." Xander said as he cracked his knuckles. "Today I think I'm going to put my two cents in."
With grins that definitely promised pain, the nine gathered street toughs started to circle their prey as they played with crude homemade weapons.
//Like a pack of Chihuahuas circling a Kodiak.// Xander thought with a shark's grin as he continued to stare at the leader of the 'Gang'
With a yell the mohawked punk took a swing at the dimensionally displaced teen with a baseball bat.
Using a slight surge of Doomsday's speed Xander ducked under the swing and simply gave the arm an extra shove sending the leader into a spin.
A second moved in from his left as two moved in from his right, the splash of another set of shoes from behind him warned that the trio was a quartet.
Reaching out, Xander grabbed the left thug and simply slung him behind as he turned to face the two remaining.
Only to stop and stare at the fourteen that had joined them in the short time the fight had been going on.
Letting out a sigh, Xander let a bit more of his alter-ego out as he snarled at the advancing gang members.
--
Xander blinked as he looked around at the unconscious gang and idly wondered if any of them were dead.
The pleas for help from inside the abandoned building were actually of greater concern, he realized as he headed into the darkened doorway the street slime had crawled from.
Stepping down onto the sagging floor, Xander took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before cringing at the rats nest he found himself in.
Most disturbing of all was the guy chained to the wall.
He obviously had once been well to do as his clothes attested, but several days of living in a place like this can turn any prince into a pauper in record time.
Taking the time to place a call to the police, Xander wondered how he was going to explain the gang outside before shrugging it off and starting to work on the older mans chains.
He would just say he found them like that, probably a turf fight gone wrong.
--
"Mr. Harris." Xander looked up and groaned at the detective that glared down at him.
"We'd like to talk to you about your identification, it seems it's been reported as fake." Detective Elsmere said as he tried to counter his partner's abrasive attitude.
"To hell with that, I want to know where you got these fakes, they're registered in the national database and that makes it a federal crime." Bullock said as he dropped the fake documents on the table and watched the kid closely. "Do you know what that means kid? That means I've got the FBI clamoring to crawl up my butt on this and I don't feel like having a federal proctology exam today, so why don't you tell me where you got them and we can all go home happy." Bullock said as the kid growled under his breath at something.
Xander, for his part, was throwing every curse he remembered from his days studying in the library at the air rat that had decided to screw his life over.
Looking up at the two detectives, Xander let out a sigh before leaning back in the uncomfortable chair they had him in. "Look, my papers were gone and the DMV and Social wouldn't let me get new ones, they said I wasn't in the system. I need those papers to get a job and try to survive and I was doing pretty well until a certain pointy eared busy body got his Kevlar undies in a knot, so in the last day ALONE I've lost my job, lost my home, been threatened with assault by the local mad vigilante, wound up in the middle of a gang fight and still managed to save Mister what's his face outside. Is there any way I can get through the rest of today without having to deal with the Alphabet suits?"
Bullock stared at the kid as he tried to keep the grin off his face. Finally, someone that hated the bat and suits as much as him//Why was it everyone like that was a criminal?// he wondered as the kid slumped again, once more put his arms onto the table and continued to mutter at the universe.