What's my name? Shit that's a good question.
The young man blinked in confusion, his hands and feet securely fastened to the rocky surface. His mind raced to comprehend the situation, and his panic subsided just enough to allow curiosity to take over. He turned his head to look around and noticed that he was indeed clinging to the side of the rubble pile.
Tentatively, he moved one hand, testing his grip. His fingers seemed to adhere to the rock, allowing him to pull himself up without slipping. It was a strange sensation, like having invisible suction cups on his skin.
"Okay, this is new," he muttered, his voice sounding small in the vastness of the cavern. He tried to calm his racing heart and took a deep breath, feeling a sense of exhilaration mixed with lingering fear.
As he climbed higher, the young man aimed for the tunnel opening above him. The closer he got, the more he realized the scale of his surroundings. The walls of the cavern were covered in strange, bio-luminescent fungi, casting eerie shadows and bathing everything in a ghostly light.
When he reached the tunnel entrance, he paused to catch his breath, grateful for the break from climbing. He pulled himself into the tunnel and continued on, feeling a renewed sense of determination.
The tunnel was narrow and winding, resembling a series of catacombs. The walls were lined with aged, crumbling bricks, and occasional drops and inclines made the path treacherous. The air grew colder and damper as he moved forward, and the sound of dripping water echoed through the passage.
As he navigated the dark passage, the young man couldn't help but wonder what had caused this strange transformation. Was it the green liquid he had been submerged in? Was it something else entirely?
After what felt like hours of navigating the tunnel, he finally saw a faint light ahead. His heart leaped with hope, and he quickened his pace, eager to find out where this strange journey would lead him next. The tunnel gradually widened, and the air grew fouler, carrying a stench of decay and waste.
He emerged from the tunnel into a vast underground sewer system. The walls were coated in grime and graffiti, and the water below was murky and foul-smelling. The dim light filtered through grates overhead, casting long shadows on the damp, slippery floor. The sounds of the city above were faint but present, a constant reminder of the world he had yet to rejoin.
The young man took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. This was not the escape he had envisioned, but it was a start. He cautiously moved forward, clinging to the walls when necessary, and began searching for a way out of the labyrinthine sewers and back into the world above.
As the young man cautiously navigated the grimy sewers, the faint echoes of the city above providing a surreal backdrop, he was suddenly startled by a voice emerging from the shadows.
“Hey kid. What's ya name?” The voice had a thick Cajun accent, curious yet with a hint of aggression.
The young man paused, trying to recall his name, but his mind was a frustrating blank. Panic began to rise in his chest again, but he fought it down. All he could remember through the sea of green in his mind, was a single letter, the letter P.
“Uh... it’s... You can call me P,” he stammered, the uncertainty in his voice palpable.
“P, huh?” The voice mused, stepping into the dim light. The speaker was a tall, imposing figure with leathery green skin, sharp teeth, and reptilian eyes. Despite his fearsome appearance, P sensed that he was in very little danger.
Waylon eyed P with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. “Ain’t often I find folks wanderin’ my home. Most steer clear.” "How'dya get down here kid?"
P looked around, trying to gather his thoughts. “I woke up in some kind of glowing green liquid back in a cave. I don’t remember much before that. Just trying to find a way out of here.”
The hybrid nodded, his expression growing more serious. “You’re in the sewers of Gotham, kid. It ain't safe for you on your own down here." The large man sighed, "I have a place you can stay for a little bit, at least until we findya a safer place topside. Shouldn't be to hard, so long as yeh learn how to survive on the streets."
P hesitated only for a moment before deciding to trust the man. He had no other options, and this man seemed to know his way around. As they moved through the sewers, the man filled him in on the basics of Gotham, warning him about the dangers and pointing out landmarks that might help him find his way. He also told P that his name was Waylon Jones.
“So, you don’t remember anything, huh?” Mister Jones asked as they navigated a particularly narrow passage.
“Not really,” P admitted. “Just bits and pieces, and none of it makes much sense.”
Waylon studied him for a moment longer, then nodded gruffly. “Alright, I’ll believe ya. But you stick close, and don’t go wanderin’ off. These sewers can be unforgiving.”
P glanced down at his tattered, damp clothes and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”
With Mister Jones leading the way, P felt a glimmer of hope. He didn’t know what lay ahead, but at least he wasn’t facing it alone. As they continued through the labyrinth of the sewers, P couldn't help but be curious about his companion.
“So, Mister Jones... how did you end up down here?” he asked.
Waylon’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he answered, “Long story, kid. Used to be a regular guy, just like you. Born with a skin condition, though. Folks weren't too kind. Ended up here, makin' the best of things. People up there call me Killer Croc, but that ain't who I really am. Down here, I’m just Waylon. At least, when The Bat isn't snooping around.”
P nodded, appreciating the honesty. However Mr. Jones's repeated mention of 'The Bat' had piqued his interest, “Thanks for helping me, Mister Jones. Do you mind if I ask you another question?”
"Ask away, Kid."
"Who's that Bat guy you keep mentioning?"
"Shit kid you really don't remember anything do you? Alright, shit I've never had to explain this before, he's a vigilante who calls himself 'The Batman' and he's made it his mission to clean up Gotham."
"Why's he after you Mr. Jones?" P asked, shocked to learn that the man who had offered to help him so much might be a criminal.
"Well kid, I'm pretty sure I fell into the same pool you crawled out of a couple years ago, after I was badly injured. The pool healed me, but it also made me more animalistic and aggressive, gave me a very short temper. Which, with my strength, made me a threat to the citizens of Gotham, and consequentially, an enemy of the Bat. That was a very long time ago, and I've managed to get better control of my temper in recent years. Most of the time the Bat isn't even after me anymore, he's after some other criminal who decided to use my sewers as an escape route, and if he asks, and it ain't a friend of mine he's hunting, I point him in the right direction."
P, reassured that he was in little danger decided to continue down the sewers with Mr. Jones, hoping he had some food and somewhere dry for him to sleep, It had been a long day.