Chapter 2: CH 1 : "Bitter Beginnings"
Prologue
****
I would have preferred it if my new life in a new world had started off great.
"Oh, god yes! Harder! Harder!"
Being the child of a twenty year old nymphomaniac hooker, was arguably not the best start to a new life.
"Oh, yes! Oh yes you filthy whore – take my – what the fuck?! There's a goddamned baby in here!"
I was surprised he noticed my presence, being silent in the crib as I was.
"Oh, that's – ah – just my – oh fuck – bastard son. You let them take off the condom once, and you get nine months of pain and a crying shitbag for it."
Ouch. I had unusually thick skin, but that had hurt, even by my standards.
"You're a sick woman."
"Pft. Coming from the sleazebag fucking me? Save your morality for your paraplegic wife."
And then came the slaps. I would have sighed if my babyish lips were capable of doing it. Honestly, I thought she would have realized after the sixteenth time someone smacked her in the eye that it did not pay to be a smart ass when you were, in plain terms, a simple hooker.
The beating ended, and a rather angry customer stormed off, though, not without at least tossing a fat stack of bills into the woman's face.
"This is for the kid. With any luck, he'll live long enough to put you out of your misery."
"Oh, a cheater with a conscience! Call the fucking Daily Bugle!"
The door slammed shut, and once more, a pair of angry eyes turned into my direction.
"This is all your fault you know."
Actually, I was sure it was due to your own poor life choices, but, sadly, I could not speak, and thus, I said nothing.
"Get pregnant for a while they said – customers are into the breast milk fetish they said, it'll boost your average rates by over a hundred percent they said!" She growled, before, I once more heard the sound of liquid pouring into glass, and three guesses told me what it was.
"If only I'd gotten rid of you sooner – but no, I let you stay long enough, just long enough for any sort of procedure to get rid of you guaranteeing my death. Fucking hell."
She gulped down the drink, and once more, I remained silent, listening to her swallow down what sounded like three full bottles.
"But", she said, her voice slurring slightly now, "At least – you're good company. You don't cry much – and though the diapers costs a small fortune, and your shit stinks up the place – you're good. You are a good baby."
I felt a pair of hands lifting me out of the small crib, allowing my eyes to truly focus on the blonde hair and cobalt blue eyes of the woman in front of me.
"Heh – it's just you and me versus the world – fuck everyone else – fuck everything else – you – baby, you get me. You – you're still here, you'll be here for your mama forever – and I – I won't… let… anyone… take… you…"
At least, she had the decency to place me back into the crib, before collapsing into it. Her open breasts were exposed, and I knew that unless I wanted to die, I needed sustenance. And so, I ignored her snores, sobs, incoherent mutterings, as my lips gathered around her suckle nipple, and I fed.
Had I been any ordinary child, any ordinary baby – I would have long since died from starvation and malnutrition, if not from the fact that my mother smoked and drank heavily, and it was clear in the acrid taste of the milk.
But I wasn't, and so, instead, I survived.
It was a pivotal moment, one that had haunted me for months. The existential crisis had been relentless, a storm that raged within me, tearing at the very fabric of my being. For two long, grueling months, I had questioned the purpose of my existence, the existence of this place, the meaning of it all. Those sleepless nights and endless days had been a relentless torment, a crucible of self-doubt and introspection.
Yet, as I sat there life in hand, the weight of the past began to lift. The question of "how" seemed to fade into insignificance. I had endured the depths of my own soul, confronted my own demons, and emerged on the other side. The whys and hows were no longer my primary concern.
As during my extensional crisis the letter that appeared did clear a few things.
After it, The fire within me had changed. It was no longer fueled by existential angst, but by a relentless determination to continue surviving, no matter what it took. I was ready to claw my way back from the abyss, to defy the odds, and to find a path forward through any means necessary.
Once oppressive, now my mind seemed filled with possibilities. Emotions of resilience and determination coursed through my veins, propelling me into a future where I would no longer be confined by the weight of unanswered questions, but driven by the sheer will to endure and thrive.
And I intended to continue surviving.
Through any means necessary.
*********
"Belatedly, I knew, or I realized, that the reason I had not yet completely freaked out or gone insane or lost my mind at the lifestyle which I now lived, was due to the second unknown golden finger I got from the being who sent me here. Likewise, the reason why I was not yet dead, was due to the same golden finger. It was with this thing alone, that had aided me enough, so I could crawl on all fours by 3 months, and I was finally capable of walking at only seven months old.
I knew which world I was in, as it was hard not to, considering that I had heard the name of my city loud and clear, and unless there was another Gotham City that existed somewhere in the world, then I could not be mistaken. And considering the current state of life, which would one day be considered as my 'backstory,' I would either become a great villain, or a great hero. For some reason, I was leaning towards the former.
But what I heard from the news and the general talk alone, I knew the being who gave me powers wasn't the one who caused my soul to reincarnate here. As he only gave me power, which was clearly stated in the letter that I received. And I don't see any reason for a higher being to lie to me.
I closed my eyes and focused because the last thing I remember was jumping across that car and then falling. There was nothing to land on, and I fell into a construction hole beneath me.
The only logical and illogical conclusion would be that I fell from my world and into this one, but how in the hell could a hole handle dimensional travel or even quantum tunneling. I had to accept that there was no way home, and I knew the person that caused my situation. It could only be the Flash and his messing with the time and space barrier.
If that was the case, then that would mean this would be some time after FlashPoint and everything was recently reset in time. And my theory was proven right by the fact that I heard anything about superheroes. And only mild incidents or rescues which can only be done by a 5000-year-old Amazonian, Man from Mars, or a very young blue boy scout."
Placing all those thoughts aside, I focused on my current situation.
"Oh! Great job Victor! You're a really smart boy!"
I smiled at the woman on whose lap I sat, as I solved basic arithmetic I could have completed in my sleep, and made her look at me with something akin to admiration.
This would have been such a great, or normal moment for a child, had we not been in one of the back rooms of a strip club, and the woman in question wasn't skimpily clad in a mini-skirt, topless, and did not have a roll of weed in her left hand.
But at least, she wasn't named Chastity.
"Thanks Auntie Purity!"
…Shut up.
"You know, I think your mother really ought to put you in school. You'd really blow them all away with that brain of yours!"
There was a snort, which came from another stripper who had entered the room at that moment. So much boobs and skin right in front of me, but unfortunately, my body was not sexually mature enough to have a reaction to any of it. Didn't that suck?
"You know why Eva won't send the brat to school. All it'll take will be one person figuring out what or who his mother does for a living before child services come knocking at her door."
The woman sneered at me. "If it were up to me, I'd have dropped you off at the nearest orphanage right after your birth."
"Ugh! That's just rude!" Purity said.
The woman flicked her eyes to her. "As if you wouldn't have done the same. How many abortions have you had Purity? I stopped caring about counting after the seventh one."
"That doesn't mean you can talk to him like that, or tell him straight to his face! He's just a kid!"
"And the sooner he learns how shitty the world is, the better." She snarled, before, I felt a hand grabbing me, forcing me off Purity's lap.
"Hey – where are you taking him – sto–"
Her protests were cut short, as I was forced through the strip club, before I stood behind a curtain, the woman's sharp fingered hands slamming down onto my shoulders.
"Look – over there –"
I did.
I saw my mother.
"There – that's your mother, riding a pole and making men hard just to get some cash. You see it? You see how well she does that? Well, remember it. Remember that. Because after she leaves here, some of those men are going to be fucking her hard, for some more cash."
There was a sneer in the woman's tone, and, idly, I wondered why she was showing me this. Wasn't she also a stripper?
"That cash is barely ever enough for her, but she splits it in half for you as well, starving and getting skinnier just so you can eat. Fucking more and more men than even she can handle just to make sure you don't starve."
Oh.
"So brat, you better remember, and you better be grateful."
The gripping weight on my shoulder slowly left.
I barely noticed when the woman had left, instead, my eyes were still focused on the woman in front of me. The woman who, now that I realized it, was twenty-one, only 3 years yonger I had been before I had died. She was a child by all means, young, very, very young.
And her skin shone with sweat, her breasts and nipples heaved in the air, a metal pole pressed against her legs and thighs, as she shot out a sultry look to a group of men disgustingly older. Their applauses and catcalls were dulled in my ears, as I gazed upon the woman, and slowly, steadily, my lungs burned and a thick heavy lump buried itself in my throat.
I would only later realize that this burning sensation was anger.
Taking a deep, filling breath, I could only sigh, for you can't do much when you are hardly two years old.
Four years - it had been a mere blink in the grand scheme of time, but for me, it had been a whirlwind of ambition and tireless dedication. As I gazed at her divine form and the collection of scraps, remnants of a world in disarray, a spark of determination blazed within me.
Only four years were enough for me to create an empire out of these scraps, I thought, my voice soft but resolute. The powers I had acquired had become my greatest asset and my deepest secret. I had spent countless hours experimenting with them, ever since I knew about it, pushing the boundaries of what I could achieve, and honing my skills to a razor's edge.
The thought of her, the one for whom I had embarked on this journey, was a beacon of hope in the darkness of my world. Just two more years, I told myself, two more years of relentless work and innovation, and I could provide her with the life she deserved. A life where she wouldn't have to resort to selling herself for meager scraps, where the harsh realities of her past could be buried under the foundations of a better future.
Emotions surged within me - a mix of determination, love, and an unyielding sense of responsibility. I had a vision of a life together, free from the hardships that had plagued us both. Every piece of scrap before me was a symbol of my commitment to that vision, a testament to my unshakable resolve to transform our lives.
I actually chuckled under my breath. I had truly grown attached to her.
No, it's still a long time since I couldn't wait that long now. I was in DC, not only that but I was in the worst of the worst towns around - Gotham City, with their equally shitty and enabling hero, Batman. Even though he was just a little brat, yes, crime was still at its lowest, but it's Gotham; its lowest meant the highest in the world.
I could not stand this sight for that long. I will make that money in the next one week.
Had I been any other person, any normal child, this would have been an impossible task, but I wasn't. I had the brain of a twenty-four-year-old from a different dimension, a dimension which granted me knowledge about some of the secrets and details about the world I was currently in. With this knowledge, there would be nothing that could stand in my way.
In a world where gods walked the earth as mortal men, I would become a legend.
And I would do it –
For her.
For my mother.
*************
Love is beautiful.
Love is inspiring.
But love is also lethal.
***
"The things we do for love."
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