[2]

The first shout echoed down the tunnel, cutting through the faint hum of dripping water and the low murmurs of the sewer camp. It wasn't unusual to hear noise from the surface—Gotham's streets were always alive with chaos—but this was different. Closer. Urgent.

Nuru tensed where he sat by the barrel fire, a dented tin cup of lukewarm soup cradled in his hands. Across from him, Marie's sharp eyes snapped toward the sound, her body already shifting into action.

"Vic," she called to the wiry man sorting blankets nearby. "Get everyone ready to move."

"What's going on?" Nuru asked, setting his cup aside. His voice came out quieter than he intended, but the tightness in his chest made it hard to breathe.

Marie knelt beside him, her tone brisk but calm. "Trouble. Might be nothing, but if it's something, we can't be sitting ducks. Stay close to me, alright?"

Nuru nodded, swallowing hard. He knew better than to argue. Trouble in Gotham was never just nothing.

The shouts grew louder as Vic and the others scrambled to gather what they could carry. A few of the older kids clutched scavenged bags and blankets, while the adults armed themselves with makeshift weapons—pipes, crowbars, and broken glass. Nuru's hand drifted instinctively to his jacket, feeling the reassuring weight of his notebook tucked against his ribs.

Then came the footsteps: heavy, deliberate, and closing in fast.

The first figure appeared at the mouth of the tunnel, his silhouette stark against the faint light filtering in from the grate above. He wore a long coat over a suit that might've been expensive once, but now looked worn and patched. A tattoo of a coiled snake ran up his neck, its eyes inked in crimson. Behind him were three more men, all dressed in similar patchwork suits and carrying firearms. The barrels gleamed in the dim light.

Nuru's stomach turned. These weren't random street thugs. They moved like soldiers, their steps measured and coordinated. This was a crew.

The lead man scanned the room, his expression hard. "Alright, listen up," he barked, his voice rough but commanding. "We're looking for someone. No need to make this ugly, but if you don't cooperate, well..." He gestured to the gun in his hand. "You'll find out."

Marie stepped forward, planting herself between the group and the rest of the camp. Her stance was firm, unyielding. "We're not hiding anyone," she said, her voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air. "We don't want trouble."

"That's cute," the man said, his lips curling into a sneer. "But we know someone down here's been sticking their nose where it doesn't belong. Word is, your little sewer rat crew intercepted something that wasn't meant for you."

Marie's eyes narrowed, but she didn't respond. Behind her, Vic shifted uneasily, his grip tightening on the crowbar in his hand.

The man took a slow step forward. "Where is it?"

Nuru shrank back, trying to make himself invisible as the man's gaze swept over the group. His mind raced. He didn't know what they were talking about, but the anger in their voices left no doubt: this wasn't a negotiation.

From his spot near the back of the group, Vic suddenly spoke up. "You're wasting your time. We don't have anything of yours. Why don't you turn around and crawl back to whatever hole you came from?"

The words hung in the air for a moment, a dangerous silence settling over the room. Then the man with the snake tattoo smiled—a cold, humorless thing—and raised his gun.

The crack of the shot was deafening in the enclosed space.

Vic crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath him. A collective gasp rippled through the group, but no one moved. Fear rooted them in place. Nuru stared at Vic's body, his breath caught in his throat. He'd seen death before, but never like this—so sudden, so senseless.

The man lowered his gun, his expression unchanged. "Anyone else feel like being brave?"

Marie's hands clenched into fists, but she held her ground, her jaw tight with restrained fury. "You'll get nothing from us," she spat.

The man's smile faded. He gestured to the others. "Tear it apart."

The intruders spread out, overturning crates and rifling through the group's meager belongings. People scattered, scrambling to avoid the men's rough hands and searching eyes. Nuru pressed himself into the shadows, his heart hammering in his chest.

He could run. Find another corner of the tunnels to hide in, wait for it to blow over. But the thought of Marie—or anyone else—getting hurt twisted his stomach into knots. His hand drifted to his jacket again, fingers brushing against the notebook.

I could stop this, he thought. The pen in his pocket felt heavy, almost as if it were daring him to act.

But what if it went wrong? What if he made it worse?

The sound of a crate crashing snapped him out of his thoughts. One of the men had cornered Marie against the wall, his hand gripping her arm tightly. She struggled, but he was stronger, forcing her back as he snarled something Nuru couldn't make out.

His grip on the notebook tightened. He didn't have time to think. He just wrote.

The man loses his balance. A pipe falls from the ceiling, knocking him unconscious.

The pen scratched across the page, the words tumbling out in shaky, uneven lines. As soon as he finished, the air seemed to shift. A faint creak echoed through the tunnel, followed by a loud clang as a rusted pipe broke loose from the ceiling. It struck the man squarely on the shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Marie didn't hesitate. She drove her knee into his stomach, wrenching his gun from his hand before retreating toward the group.

The commotion drew the attention of the other intruders. The leader's eyes narrowed as he scanned the room, his gaze landing on Nuru's hiding spot. "There you are," he said, raising his gun. "I knew there was something off about this."

Nuru's breath hitched. His mind raced as he flipped to another page.

The ground shakes. Water bursts through the tunnel, forcing the men back.

The pen felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, but he forced himself to write. The moment the last word hit the page, a low rumble vibrated through the tunnel. The leader paused, his expression twisting into confusion just before a torrent of freezing-cold water surged through the area, knocking him and his men off their feet.

Nuru clutched the notebook to his chest, water sloshing around everyone within his vicinity as the chaos unfolded. He didn't know if they were gone for good, but for now, they were beaten.

Marie found him moments later, her face pale but determined. "We need to move," she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. "There'll be more of them."

Nuru nodded, his mind still reeling. As they led the group deeper into the tunnels, he glanced at the notebook in his hands. He'd saved them this time, but at what cost?