Vagrant (Sandstorm Prequel) {DISCONTINUED}

2) Beware the Child Snatchers

"Why didn't he shoot the kid?" Cat and I had bolted the second the killer/mugger had left the scene. He'd been seconds away from shooting Bruce, too, but at the last second he changed his mind and walked away. Why? He couldn't possibly have morals: I'll kill any man and woman, but I draw the line at children! Yeah, right. The gun shots still rang in my ears, even after the alley was long behind us; I could still hear Bruce's wails as he realized his parents were dead. I hated my parents with every fiber of my being, but even so I'm not sure what I would have done if my last memory of them had been… That. 

Cat was a freaky sort of calm. I imagined this wasn't the first time she'd seen people shot and killed. Maybe she was just used to it by now, but I couldn't imagine that, getting used to seeing people dying all the time. Who the hell watches someone get murdered and thinks 'eh, whatever. Everyone's gotta go sometime.' It was sick. Fucking insane. "Why do you care? They're just a bunch of rich snobs." 

"I don't." That was a lie, but I didn't have a better answer. Why did I care? Their deaths didn't affect me; it wasn't like they were related to me or anything. The truth was the world would probably be better off without another rich, white, socialist couple in it… Still, I couldn't get the image of their dead bodies laying on the concrete out of my head. The broken pearls. Martha's head rolled to the side. Thomas staring, blank faced back at her. The blood pouring from the wounds, staining their clothes. Even from where I sat on the fire escape I could see all of it, clear as day. I couldn't imagine seeing it all up close the way Bruce had. Did the sound of their bodies hitting the ground ring in his ears too? 

We'd just left them there, didn't even call the police (not that they'd do anything -- they'd want to close the case as quickly possible).  I wanted to do something, but really there wasn't anything to do. I couldn't stop that man from killing the Waynes, couldn't tell Bruce it'd be okay -- for one thing I didn't know him so it'd be weird, and two, that'd be a lie. This would be the worst moment of his life for the rest of his life. I couldn't find the guy who'd killed his parents either. I didn't have any resources. What would be the point anyway? That wouldn't bring them back, it wouldn't give Bruce any closure. It wouldn't do anything. "I  just think it's a little weird." My mouth was dry, but my stomach hurt too much to ask her to steal a drink for me. 

"Of course it's weird, it's Gotham." Cat spun around to face me, poking me in the chest. "Look, just forget about it, okay?" I really wished it was that easy. "People die all the time. It's no big deal." No big deal. Yeah, right. She had no idea how wrong she was. The Wayne murders, as it would turn out, would jump start a whole new kind of batshit crazy in the city of Gotham. 

The weeks went by, and in that time the police were quick to murder -- I mean, take care of -- the Wayne's murderer. Mario Pepper. He resisted arrest, ran from the cops, and pulled a gun on them. They shot him because self defense in the line of duty… That's what they're telling everyone anyway. I thought they were just spewing bullshit again, but what could I do about it? I was just some stupid street kid, a Black trans girl at that. No one would ever listen to someone like me. 

The cops that shot Mario Pepper's names blew up, but one in particular kept popping up everywhere after that. Jim Gordon. He was one of the two on the Wayne case, he chased down Mario Pepper, and his name was on a boat load of other crimes. They made him out to be some sort of flippin' hero -- they even had it printed on the front of the newspaper: Hero Cops Catch Wayne Killer. I guess it made sense that he'd be the one on the job when street kids started disappearing, too, but that didn't make me actually like the guy. I didn't trust the cops, the ones in Gotham least of all. 

I wasn't sure when it had started exactly, but it had been going on for weeks. Street kids disappearing without a trace. No one even knew, hell I probably wouldn't have noticed either if I hadn't been one of them. We gathered around a fire under the bridge; Cat was spatting around a silver heart necklace, her curly blonde hair poking out from under the hood of her jacket and goggles. The gesture made her look something like an actual feline. Almost kinda cute. I figured she'd stolen the thing, though, and that sorta ruined the whole aesthetic. I was just trying to finish the sketch I'd been working on the past three days in the pad she'd gotten me. It was probably also stolen, but I'd learned a long while ago that it was better to not ask where Cat got the things she did.