Vagrant (Sandstorm Prequel)

1) 15 Why Reasons I Avoid the Alley

The first murder I witnessed was a double homocide, a rich uppety couple, the Wayne's. I wasn't surprised. Death was inevitable in Gotham. People dropped left and right, and no one even batted an eye. Just the norm here. People gunned down, stabbed to death, beaten and left to bleed out; if you witness it, the best thing to do is run, hide, and pretend you never saw anything. It's safer that way. You're more likely to survive if you keep your head down. Besides, it's their own fault, really. They should have known better than to walk down that alley in the middle of the night with no protection. There wasn't anything I could do. It wasn't my fault. 

The night it happened I was looking for an empty space, a canvas I hadn't covered yet. I felt like I'd tagged every building in Gotham by now, but by some miracle I managed to find a clean brick wall, untouched by me or any other street artist, in an alley just outside a movie theater. Generally, I tried to avoid the alleys. Too much could happen, not enough people gave a shit. But this was just too good to pass up. I could start fresh, didn't have to worry about anyone else ruining it or stealing my space. Looking back, I wished I had kept walking, because then maybe I wouldn't have gotten into so much trouble.

I dug out my art supplies and was just getting started when Cat  ducked into the alley. She gave me a curt nod as she crouched behind the dumpster and pulled a carton of milk from the inside of her coat. She had an apple in her fist too, munching on it as she screwed the milk's lid off and yanked someone's wallet out. I guess she'd been busy tonight.

We weren't friends exactly, but every now and again we'd run into each other, helped each other out of a few tight spots. Usually it went something like this: she'd steal me enough food to keep me alive for the week, and I'd make sure she didn't get caught. Not that it was that hard, she was already pretty good at giving people the slip, and the cops aren't worth shit, especially in Gotham. Flippin' idiots. She'd been on the streets a lot longer than I have, and she had shown me the ropes, the good hang outs, the places to avoid, people to dodge, the best places to get some sleep. She was the reason I hadn't gotten myself killed yet. (Not like anyone would miss me anyway…) 

We'd met in an alley, actually. Not this one, a different one. I'd been ducking behind a dumpster, it was my first night out on the streets since my parents had told me to get lost. I was alone, terrified, hungry, I had no place to go, and if I was being honest, I was planning to kick the bucket as soon as I found the quickest way to do it. Unfortunately, she found me first, so I was stuck living the nightmare that is my sorry excuse of a life. She made me follow her to this little crap hole in the Narrows. There wasn't much there, but there were a lot of other kids and somehow that made me feel a little less alone. At least, I knew I wasn't the only one who was royally fucked up.

Silently, Cat tossed me a small bag full of whatever extra goods she'd managed to lift on her way over. I doubt she had been looking for me (why would she go out of her way to find me just to give me some god awful food from who knows where?), it was more likely she was just passing the stuff she decided she didn't actually want to me. An after thought, that's all it was. I took it without complaint, though. Beggars couldn't be choosers after all. Then again, it wasn't like I'd need it long. All I really needed was to find a few heavy rocks to stuff in my socks and the nearest, deepest body of water and... No. Sorry, sorry. Cat says I need to stop thinking like that, but sometimes... Sometimes I can't help it...

Cat poured some of the milk in a makeshift bowl as a calico alley cat made its way over. I thought the thing looked deceased and made it a point to steer clear, but she started making little noises at the ugly little thing. I shook my head and kept working on the wall. I didn't hate cats, but that didn't mean I trusted the ones in the streets either. They had fleas and had been rolling around in the dumpsters and fighting with mice and god knows what else... I guess I was sort of like a cat, in that regard. We both panhandled suckers too, the only difference is it actually worked for the stupid ass felines. People looked at me and thought oh God its another street rat! Get it away!