Chapter Two
Farther down the dark, dank corridor, a group of people—mostly women and kids—sat in a raggedy shanty town made up of stitched together tattered tents. The multicolored panels on each of the tents gave them an aged appearance, but the old army shelters kept the occupants comfortable on the coldest nights of the year. Several of the young girls sewed more panels onto the dwellings in order to cover up the holes. The people were situated in a large, commodious room the size of a gymnasium with a stream of sewer water running through it. The sewers of Gotham were no different from life in a third-world nation, and the people who lived in the trenches knew the horrors of hell. Society's abused and battered children, young and old, fed on the trash of the wealthy, and they had grown accustomed to dysfunction. The mouths of catfish came to the surface of the greenish brown water in order to nibble on the bugs, garbage, and whatever else they could find, including the feces. Some of the fish were massive—bigger than two hundred pounds. The catfish had a tendency to snap on to the rats, and feast on them too ; they were vicious. The downtrodden of society made the spacious room in the sewer their home, and some of the people had lived underground for over twenty years. The community was nothing more than a group of survivalists willing to do anything to live. Several of the small kids in tattered, barely fitting clothes used dented, metal cups to hold the contaminated water. Some of the cups they used to scoop the septic water out of the greenish looking river were forged from soda pop cans. The septic water was nothing more than the untreated waste from the people that lived directly above them. They took the septic water over to the powerful machine that stood in the middle of the room that turned the abscessed water into viable drinking water. It turned septic water into aseptic water, and kept the communicable diseases down to a minimum. The machine stretched to the ceiling, generated heat, and had a large hose attached to it that went directly into the water. Unfortunately, the pump that sucked the water directly from the reservoir hadn't worked for over two years, and the women didn't have the ability to fix it. This meant they used the dirty sewer water to bathe or they used the showers attached to some truck stop in order to clean their bodies. Surprisingly, none of the sewer dwellers took ill because of the dirty water, but sexually transmitted diseases happened often, even the kids weren't immune to them. Everybody earned their keep in the community, and that keep meant engaging in sex, drugs, or both. One of the older women passed some dried bread to an older lady with extremely wrinkled neck skin, and she tore off a small piece of it. Overall, the woman had a smooth face, but her neck looked more like a turkey's neck. It had so many wrinkles that it distracted from her soft, innocent looking face. After that, the loaf of bread went around the room with each woman and child breaking off a small chunk. The dried bread was barely edible, but none of the pitiable people of the shanty town complained about the condition of the food. The majority of the residents had the emaciated look of drug users because all of them made and used meth at any given time. It was the drug of choice for most of Gotham's underbelly. A small group of women sat against the far wall with a long, tubular pipe, a lighter, and a small meth rock that they lit repeatedly. They sucked on the end of the tube until their eyes rolled into the back of their heads. It was a horrible site, but a normal site nonetheless. Babies paced back and forth in front of the meth users, giggling. The kids usually gathered stale bread from generous restaurants that didn't lock their trash bins at night. They pretended to play dice games in the back of the restaurants, and waited for the workers to toss discarded food into the bins. The workers familiar with the horrid conditions of the shanty towns dropped the old boodle in the bins for the children to swipe in the middle of the night. Several of the restaurants had security cameras and a few signs to warn the children about pilfering through the trash, but nobody complained. The kids that went on patrols knew exactly where to go for the bread stuff, and they didn't hesitate to commandeer anything edible for the community. They'd search through the large trash bins for meat, chips, or anything they could use to feed the other children in the shanty town. When the children had plenty to eat, it kept them from disturbing the elders of the community. Each member of the group ate quietly next to their tents—never looking up from their plates of food.
For a city with so much wealth, it was hard to believe that so many poor people lived beneath it with barely enough food to eat. There probably was approximately two hundred tents that made up the quaint, little shanty town. And the majority of people in the community bathed in the waste of the people with enough money to live on the surface of the city. When the highs dissipated, the women often whined about the riches of the surface dwellers ; and when they prostituted, some of them stole from their johns. They made no apologies for their actions. Cora Suay, a middle-aged woman with short, woolly hair, dark skin, and ashy arms watched a large rat as it swam towards the group of people. It had red, little bugged eyes that she despised, but she knew the larger rats made good eating when prepared correctly. If she didn't snag the nasty rodent, the catfishes would swoop in and steal it from her. Everybody in the shanty town ate the ubiquitous rodents in order to control their population. The disease spreading animals lived in every crack and crevice of the underground community, and often stole the bit of edible food they kept hidden inside their tents. She held on to a silver throwing knife, and kept a keen eye on the rodent. Her son Ronnie—approximately twelve-years-old—sat beside her, and wrote in his journal about his day. Writing in his diary was the only way for him to escape the horrors of living underneath the city of Gotham. He didn't spend much time hanging with the other kids, but he liked an Asian girl named Vivian. Whenever he wasn't with a customer, he liked to spend time talking to Vivian about being a big shot on the surface some day. He once told her that the entire world would know his name before he turned eighteen, and utter it in order to express their coolness. Basically, he told her he'd become the next legend of Gotham. When his mother gingerly raised the throwing knife in the air, he stopped writing in his journal for a moment. Stoned face and calm, she watched the rodent with the eyes of a hawk. The rest of the community continued to gab, but not Ronnie because he knew she needed to focus. He knew if she missed the rat that it would be a second full day of nothing but bread and lowly insects ; and with the snow falling profusely, the Jokers probably wouldn't come by to hire him to escort some of the most influential men in town. When the rat leaped from the water, Cora's knife flew through the air, and sliced the rodent into two pieces. The rat screamed for half a second, and then went completely quiet. It didn't move or show any signs of life. Cora knew how to use a knife, and it didn't matter the prey: man or beast. The bloody animal fell into two piles on the ground, and Ronnie recovered the pieces quickly in order to prepare them for eating.
Ronnie's abuser—Mister Leener—came by about once a week to take him out to eat, and then straight to his house to play games on the video console. Mister Leener told Ronnie occasionally that he didn't like boys over thirteen, and his days of taking his money were coming to an end. The Jokers arranged the lascivious meetings, and collected all the monies from the illicit escorts that happened in Gotham's underbelly. The Jokers paid a meager wage to the children for their escort services, and all interactions with the Johns remained a secret. The majority of Johns were imprudent when it came to the sewer residents. When a sewer resident complained about their conditions, nobody listened ; and when a resident of the underbelly of Gotham ended up missing or dead, the cops didn't make an attempt to investigate. Cora received some benefits for agreeing to allow her son to see Mister Leener, and that was protection from Child Services. He knew his Momma cried every time he went with the dirty, old man, but the Jokers were demanding when it came to making money. Dollars and morality didn't belong in the same sentence, and the Jokers didn't care for complaining either. It was better to perform the sexually illicit task than to complain about it. Over the last few months, several kids went missing, but the Gotham Police Department didn't investigate. The majority of men who participated in exploiting the poor children who lived underneath the city were in high positions in society. "Help me clean this rat ?" Cora asked with a grimace on her dark skinned face. She gave one half of the animal to Ronnie. " All that writing isn't going to help you, boy. "
"It's how I cope, " he said with a soft sounding voice. He took a thin, pearl handled folding knife out of his tattered, right pants pocket, and removed the guts from the poor animal. It wasn't his first time cleaning a rat with his Momma, but he was surprised at the size of it. Before his Momma's throwing knife sliced it into two pieces, it had to be nearly four feet long. When he finished cleaning the animal, he took a long pause, and then wiped the guts onto his tattered pants legs. After that, he folded the knife, stuck it in his front right pant's pocket, and pushed the cleaned animal over to his Momma to season. He kept the knife in his pocket for more than cleaning food, but protection. He was only around twelve-years-old, but he had seen the damage an abusive handler could do to a kid ; and as long as he lived underneath the city, he had no recourse if his handler changed for the worse. He didn't know if Mister Leener ever brutally raped or killed a kid, but some members of the city council made a habit of it. Influential businessmen, politicians, and some well-to-do citizens of Gotham formed the Pedophilia Libertine Society ( PLS ) , and the society had financial backing because the majority of members were the wealthy elite of Gotham. Ronnie heard Mister Leener refer to the members of that society in a negative manner, but he knew the old guy had enough money to enter the group. Some of the members enjoyed little boys while other members enjoyed fellowship with little girls. But by the time a child reached the age of sixteen, the PLS no longer desired those kids. This meant that the kid resorted to making drugs for cash or setting up arrangements between younger kids and wealthy people involved in pedophilic behavior. "Why don't you go explore ?" His Momma asked as she removed the fur off her half of the over sized rodent. Several women from other tents started up the standing grills, and waited for her to finish seasoning the rat. The standing grills stood about five feet high, green, and aligned the far walls. When the food cooked, the smell reverberated throughout the tunnels. Whatever the other residents of the shanty town had found to eat, they threw it on the grill, including bugs of all types and a couple small catfishes. Some of the ladies set a bucket of vegetables on the ground in front of the grill in order to roast them. The same lamps used to grow marijuana gave life to some of the greenest and tastiest vegetables in Gotham. Some of the women said the richness of Gotham's waste gave life to some of the best vegetables on the planet. Sometimes they had a good harvest of vegetables while other times the tunnels of Gotham didn't produce anything.
Quietly, Ronnie walked down the dark tunnel with a small flashlight in order to avoid any of the viscous rats that lived in every crevice of the sewer. They usually made a significant splash in the water, but he didn't hear anything as he walked down the dark tunnel. The smell of the rat cooking on the grill flooded the hallway, and he wondered if he'd get a bite before Dennis, a Joker, came by. Dennis was the liaison who setup most of the illicit, sexual encounters for about twelve kids, and two of the kids lived in the Fifth Street Sewer. Ronnie traveled over to the pod that had fastened itself to the wall, and sat down beside it on the ledge. He didn't realize that a human life form existed on the inside of the cocoon, but he did enjoy the heat emanating from it. The journal stuck out of his side right pocket slightly, and he pulled it out in order to finish writing his entry for the day. The first entry for the day was about the kid Markus who went missing last week after a visit to his abuser's home. Ronnie knew that he wasn't suppose to speak or write about the secret relationships between the sewer kids and the PLS, but he made journal entries every time Mister Leener touched him. The Joker who arranged the meetings said that Ronnie's Momma would vanish if he didn't make enough money or ever told about the city officials who had fetishes for young boys. He never had an urge to voice complaints about the sexual encounters until Markus's headless, black body surfaced in Lake Gotham.
Dennis made a concerted effort with his minions to take as many pictures of Markus's headless body after the cops found it, but he also made a point to say he wasn't involved in the boy's death. But on the other hand, he made it a factor to tell the kids of the sewer that none of them were exempt from Markus ' fate. It instilled fear in most of the sewer urchins, but Ronnie didn't let the braggart bother him. Killing Dennis was one of his best dreams.
The pedophilia in Gotham had reached an all time high, and the moral compass of society had waned. The good that once echoed through the streets of the dark city died nearly a decade ago, and nobody had the ingenuity, class or willingness to take The Batman's place. Death became the symbol of freedom in the dark city ; and without a stable source of wealth, an early death was highly probable. Mister Leener was Judge Leener to the people who sat in his courtroom, and Ronnie's momma faced him on several occasions for petty, nonviolent crimes. Quickly, Ronnie realized in order to keep his momma out of prison, he had to sacrifice his childhood whenever the chance arose because the smallest defiance meant prison time for his momma.
" Ronnie, you ready ?" A voice asked as it approached him out of the darkness.
" Who's that ?" Ronnie asked. He placed his diary into a small crevice in the wall, and then flashed the light in the direction of the Joker. He had an idea of who it might be, but couldn't tell because it was so dark in the tunnel. "Don't put the light in my eyes, boy, " the dark figure snapped.
" Oh. It's you, Dennis, " Ronnie said with a look of relief on his face. He didn't care too much for Dennis, because he mediated the meetings with the abusers, but the councilmen feared the young Joker. Dennis was probably twenty-five or twenty-six years old with a hideous scar on the left side of his neck. The scar gorgonized any onlooker because it told a viscous story, a story of survival. Whenever Ronnie looked at Dennis's hideous wound, he turned to stone ; it scared him. Dennis once resided in the sewers too, but left when he turned sixteen. Everybody knew that he killed the man that sexually molested him for five years at one of the Libertine parties, but not without cause. Dennis kept a small blade in his pants pocket, and his molester cut Dennis ' throat in the boiler room of the building. According to Dennis, he was fifteen at the time he attended his last Libertine party, and they had him dressed in a flowery tuxedo. He didn't realize how badly the old man cut his neck until the blood dripped onto his flowery tuxedo. He called the suit the gayest suit on the planet. He would have ended up like Markus, but Dennis fought back against his abuser. With the blood dripping down his neck, he pulled out his small knife, and stabbed the man nearly thirty times in the gut. The cops tried to throw Dennis underneath the jail because he killed a high dollar attorney named Randolph Gibson. But when the law enforcement officials found a stash of illicit videos online of Mister Gibson brutally molesting Dennis, they dropped the charges. It became a case of self defense, and Dennis walked away with his freedom. But like most of the kids who grew up in the sewers, he found a way to exploit the other kids. He not only sold drugs, but he prostituted all the kids in the Fifth Street sewer. He even knows about the guy who killed Markus, but he hasn't blabbed the killer's name yet. He used Markus's murder as a tool to control the other sewer urchin ; and when Ronnie thought hard about Dennis's abuse, he thought one day I'll kill him.
The majority of men with fetishes for young boys held high positions in the city of Gotham. They might be business men or high ranking city officials or professors from Gotham City University, or even a cop on the take. In any case, the men had money and influence who preyed on the boys of the sewer or ( BOTS ) . He always told the abusers to return the boys without any bruises ; and when Dennis talked to the business men, they usually listened. Ronnie didn't know how a person as skinny and frail looking as Dennis had so much power and influence in the world of business, but he told them exactly how it had to be. "It's time to make a little money, " the Joker said with a smirk on his face. He looked chiseled like a body builder, but extremely skinny at the same time. His stare was cold and commanding, and Ronnie did exactly what he was told to do. Dennis looked over at the pod, and asked, " What's that ?" Ronnie started to walk away, and then the Joker said, " Slow down, boy. You know I have a new guy for you today ?"
"What happen to Mister Leener ?" He asked with a soft voice. He walked in front of Dennis, and he heard the Joker's foot steps catching up to him.
" Decided to lie low since Markus's demise, " he said with a chuckle, " Those dirty old men get a little jittery when a child ends up murdered … especially the judges. "
The child waited for the Joker to catch up with him, and then they climbed out of the sewer into the snowy streets. The snow shut down the city, and the only thing active was the snow trucks trying to clear a path for the morning commuters. Humongous snow flakes continued to fall rapidly to the ground, and it looked as if the snow wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon. The thick snow covered everything in sight, and blew almost sideways at times. Dennis squinted as the cold, fluffy stuff beat against his skinny, scared face. He helped pull Ronnie through the manhole, and pointed to the man in the yellow, quietly running SUV. It was a mid-size, battery SUV that had the ability to fly. Several new line of cars had the ability of flight, but the government hadn't worked out all the rules concerning flight, and they expected to make it completely legal by twenty-thirty-two. The buildings were so high, so close to each other that everything seemed cramped. Without question, Ronnie climbed into the vehicle on the passenger side, and Dennis tapped on the driver's side window for the man to roll it down. The Joker kept his hands into his pocket because of the frigid cold weather, and hopped up and down to try to keep warm.
" Listen, I don't care what kind of exploitive nastiness you have in mind for the boy … just make sure you bring him back alive, " he said, " Can't afford another death this soon. "
The driver rolled up the driver's side window on Dennis ' face, and he had to pull back so the rolling window didn't catch his fingers. Dennis gave the man a bitter look that resembled an angry scowl. A rumor of Dennis killing more than one person in the elite society had circulated in the sewers, but nobody had confirmed it. The ladies loved to talk about things they didn't know anything about, and that was how Ronnie took it. The women in the sewer talked about things that they heard from other people, and some of it had some truth to it, but most of it was hogwash. Walking away from the SUV, the Joker snarled and stuck his hands in his coat pocket, walked away from the vehicle with his head down, grimacing. " That dirt bag doesn't know I'll kill him, " he whispered, " I'll kill every last one of them. "
Ronnie barely had the willpower to stare the heavyset city councilman in the face because of the massive pits in it. The man suffered from bad skin that made his face look like dried out mud or a white, cotton shirt found crumpled at the bottom of the clothes hamper. He looked chalk white and corpulent. It was late in the evening around nine o'clock, but the old man apparently was dressed for the night life. He wore a black, loosely fitting suit with a metal button that had the picture of a nude child on it. The center of the button had " Libertine " written in white letters. He wasn't the same pedophile that Ronnie had in the past, but one nonetheless. The other child rapist had a gentler appearance, and more often than not showered Ronnie with bags of gifts before any illicit encounter. When Ronnie received rewards for his actions, it made the rapes bearable, at least on some level. "My name is Mister Hamilton, " the old, fat guy said with a snarky look on his face. " You'll call me Mister Hamilton … understand ?"
"Yes, sir. "
Ronnie realized immediately that Mister Hamilton was the strong authoritarian type ; and in addition to that, he had a love of guns. The back seat of the SUV had several hand guns and two high powered rifles in it.
" I see you noticed my guns ?" Mister Hamilton asked with a smirk. " You disobey me, and I'll shot you. " He laughed. Ronnie gave him an evil stare, and then turned his attention to the snow.