The rusted state of buildings, the long, dark alleys, and the clinking of rusted metals, all added to the mystery of the night time slums.

I walked through the busy streets of the slums under the cover of darkness. There was no hoodie worn, no black suit like thieves in the night, there was nothing to hide my identity.

Hiding your identity in the slums was like asking people to look at you.

If I had to compare the slum community to a single place on Earth, then it would be an abandoned factory area filled with old buildings that made the very air you breathe toxic.

You could literally just stand in place for a while and get dusty from head to toe with asbestos from the toxic building roofs.

Yet, nobody really minds dying from cancer… it was much more torturous to live a full life in the slums.

Still, you would think it was a festival with the number of people that roamed the streets at night. The damper atmosphere was all that separated a festival from the slum markets.

Well, maybe even with the damper atmosphere, all you needed was a little more color and you would have the most depressing festival on Earth.

People prowled the streets hungrily like animals that thrived in the night time. Well, not exactly animals, but more like vampires. And in some ways, we were all vampires since everyone came out at night to look for the scent of blood.

If everyone else was vampires, then the Adults would be sharks. They could pick up on the scent of blood from miles away.

Anything there was to exploit, would be exploited to its utmost capability by the Adults.

Rocky was the best at detecting weakness, but that didn’t mean that others weren’t somewhat capable.

Walking around the slums at night required a certain technique… A certain pep in your step, and oomph in your stature.

Chest puffed, heel first, eyes to the skies, and hands in your pockets.

People could literally smell when you didn’t belong in the slums. There were several times when the Corporations sent their employees to do a documentary undercover, but the employees never returned.

I think some of the employees are still here. I asked Rocky how everyone could tell when someone else didn’t belong and his answer was always the same.

‘You can tell from the smell’.

It was only later that I found out that he meant it literally and not figuratively.

If you went around the corner, you could literally find a stall that sold the scent of the slums called ‘Slum Cents’.

The owner, Mama Rosa, sold the scent of the slums for literally a cyber-cent.

Luckily, I already earned the right to walk these streets with no problem… or maybe nobody dared to pick on me anymore, I should say. Everyone knew not to mess with Rocky’s little friend.

Rocky was the guy with the ‘screw loose’ and everyone knew you never messed with the guy with the ‘screw loose’ in the slums.

I didn’t particularly enjoy the title of ‘Rocky’s little friend’, but I enjoyed the protection it brought. At least, I didn’t have to be like the kids around the corner ‘shining shoes’ for spare change.

I didn’t have enough strength in my arms or jaw to ‘shine shoes’ for an entire night without getting tired.

‘I have to count my blessings,’ I thought, internally happy of my struggling life.

I walked confidently as I watched the shady eyes of the men that stood on the sidewalks. They darted from side to side, hoping to find that one new slum-dweller that didn’t walk with enough pep in their steps.

Walking without enough pep in your steps meant that you needed something up your arse. You don’t need an imagination to guess what that ‘something’ is.

Occasionally, you could see girls getting snatched off the road and pulled into corners. I didn’t feel any obligation to help because most of the time, the girls would walk out instead of the men that grabbed them.

Over time, the girls had learned to do the ‘virgin walk’… legs close together, butt-cheeks tucked inwards, and slow, steady steps forward.

Eventually, some unfortunate man would drag them into an alley, and the girls would collect the valuables off their dead bodies.

Safe to say, I plan to stay a virgin as long as I am in the slums.

Living in the slums meant you had to be careful about who you touched. Sometimes, the ‘touched’ weren’t as innocent as they seemed.

Still, I learned my lesson a long time ago.

‘Don’t make eye contact with anyone, and just walk forward,’ I thought, quickly moving away from the populated market streets.

A couple of back alleys later and I was once again on one of the most populated streets in the slums. The Red Light Street was a frequented area, and everyone had to walk through here to reach their destination.

I guess it made for a good business strategy to make it the central area of the slums. After all, not many men and women could resist drowning their sorrows with liquor and ‘excellent’ company.

I dodged the women that tried to hold onto me as I hurried through the street. The women smelled of male sweat and other scents I hope I never come to recognize.

You would think the male sweat was a mistake, but given their androgynous appearances, I am pretty sure that half the women in the Red Light Street are not ‘women’ at all.

Sometimes you would hear about men who got tricked into a nightly encounter with other men and vice versa.

After passing through the street, I ducked behind the nearby trash bins and carefully crawled until I dipped into the sewer tunnel underneath it.

This was my personal advantage for getting around, I knew the sewers better than anyone. I crawled beneath the streets for about five minutes before I exited in front of a building blocked by other buildings from all sides.

This was Rodge’s home – one of the most secure places in the slums. Apart from the homes of the Adults, that is. Still, not because it was hard to find, meant that it wasn’t a frequented location.

I stealthy made my way through two damaged walls and hid behind the third broken wall. However, it seemed my promise to Rodge would not be easy to fulfill.

“Wh- wh- where is m-m-my big brother?” A young girl shakily asked the man that held her by the wrist with a firm grip.

“I am going to take you somewhere better okay?” The man replied with his most child-friendly voice.

Yet, his voice was anything but convincing. The young girl, no older than twelve, struggled to remove her hands from the man’s grip to no avail.

I wanted to intervene from where I hid, but that would just be sending myself to an early grave as well. I trembled in my spot, morality, and rationality fighting inside my mind.

There was being brave and selfless, and then there was just being just plain stupid. I couldn’t decide which person I was.

This was not some fairy-tale where I suddenly get a power-up and run into battle, so I was leaning towards just asking Rodge for forgiveness when I saw him in hell.

But tonight, it seemed that the Goddess of Luck was on my side. A sudden noise at the door drew the attention of one of the men.

He went to check it out, but he didn’t come back after five minutes, so the next man went to check it out after threatening Rodge’s sister into having weak knees.

Using that opportunity, I darted from behind the wall and grabbed onto Rodge’s sister.

“I will take you to your brother, but you have to be very silent!” I whispered, hoping the child would listen or I’d be forced to leave her behind.

Luckily, she seemed to know that I worked with her brother, or at least that was the impression she gave.

She also seemed like a smart girl, and just nodded her head in acknowledgment.

I pulled her along as we crawled through the first broken wall. I made sure to treat her as gently as I could, and I had the experience of coaxing a child because of my sister.

She was older than me by a year, but her intelligence was clearly subpar, or maybe she was scared into stupidity… it was hard to tell.

However, we had not fully exited the room when we heard the grunts of the two men returning. Both Rodge’s sister and I froze in place, but I gestured for her to remain quiet, and soon the sound also faded.

The girl tremblingly held onto my hands as she pleaded.

“I want to see my brother Rudge,” she said, eyes glistening with tears.

I patted her back twice and continued to pull her through the crack in the wall, but a panic attack suddenly quickened my breath as my mind blared awake with insights I didn’t previously notice.

My mind spun a million miles in a second to find something amiss, and I suddenly came to a realization.

“Your brother’s name is ‘Rodge’ not ‘Rudge’,” I murmured and an intense silence followed.

Suddenly, I tilted my head backward as a fine line of blood appeared on my throat. I punched the eleven-year-old with all my strength and rolled off the wall and into the room.

I quickly jumped to my feet and held a slight laceration on my neck. The girl held her bleeding nose as she hopped off the wall with a vicious look in her eyes.

A vicious look that did not befit her age.

As if on cue, the two men that exited earlier, also revealed themselves from behind the door.

At this moment even an idiot could figure out what happened.

“I was set-up,” I said in a bitter voice.

There was being brave and selfless, and then there was just being just plain stupid, and I was clearly the latter.