System malfunction || DC

Chapter Six

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Boy In the Alley

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Trigger warning: Minor gore and descriptions of wounds, viewer discretion advised

Spilled sugar reflects in the night sky. A cold, bitter frost settled into the skin of our heroine, Jocelyn Ylvera. She'd awoken invigorated and happy hours before and decided to use the quiet hours to do some late-night shopping.

Her muscles were relaxed and her head still buzzed with a tingling sensation of euphoria. Getting drunk wasn't something she enjoyed and only did it on rare occasions, in the comfort of a familiar place with familiar people. That was her apartment, and with Babs.

The girl had randomly appeared at her front door with a bag clinking ominously. Just minutes earlier, Tim had left the apartment. He had spent the afternoon doing work while in the comfort of her company. Neither really interacted, but stopped on occasion to ensure the other was alright.

She wouldn't consider Tim her friend. She hardly knew anything about him, and they didn't share any intimate or vulnerable moments with each other. Besides when they first met and that one time Tim walked in on her taking a shower, The poor man got on his hands and knees and apologized while she cackled over the sound of running water.

The day was calm, and honestly, she enjoyed having someone neutral to hang out with. He wasn't a stranger, and they weren't joined at the hip either. A mutual agreement to keep each other sain

When he left and there was a subsequent knock on her door, she assumed that he had forgotten something and came back to get it. So the female's face behind the door was a surprise. The bag of alcohol, more so.

Jocelyn opted to avoid the stronger shots of vodka and instead decided to make the two a variety of cocktails. As a result, their late afternoon began with high-pitched cheers and a bubbly froth of giggles.

It wasn't till now, deep into the next night, that they parted ways.

Gotham's streets were eerily quiet, not that she minded. There was little to no trash scum slithering around like radioactive rats, and the missing odor of bleeding iron was switched out by the city's poisonous smog. It was a direct contrast to Yllora. Even now, all technology is fueled by wind and water power, and even now, Jocelyn struggles with such a concept. They didn't have to burn billions and trillions of tons of trash to pollute the air. They revered the land, the ground, and the soil that provided them with a living and a place to call home. If home tonnes weren't so stubborn, they may be able to learn something.

So why is she out late shopping? One reason: whisky. The cat, during their budget soiree, had gotten into a mountain of canned food and sliced each tin open with a sharp claw. Both girls had only awoken when the empty pile had tumbled over and caused a clattering noise. Thus, here she was, soaking in the cool breeze and allowing her strong body to break down the alcohol in her system.

A gurgling broke the calm of her peaceful stroll back home. The sound echoed a haunting noise that froze the soles of her shoes to the concrete below. quiet. She listened, ears perked and eyes wide in disbelief. Maybe she had imagined another wet cough following, accompanied by the ferocious tone of someone desperate to draw in air and unclog whatever they were choking on.