Chapter 1769 S Apocalypse Event (37)
Chapter 1743 S Apocalypse Event (Thirty-Seven)
Harry opened her eyes and found herself huddled in the corner of a dilapidated house. She tried to lift her arm and found that one of her arms seemed to be dislocated. She rolled up her sleeve with her other hand and saw the bruises on her forearm. Combined with the abrasions on her waist and legs, it seemed that someone had dragged her here by her arm.
Except for the initial movement, Harley did not move at all. She still half-closed her eyes and only used the narrow vision under her eyelids to look at the environment in the room.
Harley was a native of Gotham, so she knew after a look that this was probably the dormitory of a black factory. It was called a dormitory, but in fact it was a room separated from the factory for child workers to rest. There were about fifteen or sixteen children of her age here.
Harley spent about five seconds recalling how she came here, and then she realized that this might be some kind of illusion, and she knew that this was an environment built by a friendly party, otherwise the location would not have chosen Gotham.
After thinking about these things clearly, the first thing Harley did was to close her eyes and sleep.
This body probably never had a full meal. After a day's work, she was so tired that she was shaking all over. Maybe she had dislocated her arm because she had offended the foreman. It was very likely that she would not have food all day tomorrow. If she didn't take the time to rest and let her body adapt to this state, she would probably fall into a coma due to hypoglycemia soon.
Harley slept until the next morning.
It was not until the faint light came through the crack in the door that Harley had time to take a closer look at her appearance. The little girl she possessed was about seven or eight years old and was as thin as an egg stuck on a chopstick.
Her arm was draped weakly on one side, but her face looked much better. After all, Harley was not afraid or worried. After a solid sleep, at least she got a full rest mentally.
After recovering a little bit of strength, Harley first pressed her arm on one side and pushed it up hard. After a muffled groan, her arm was hung up.
Harley found that her guess was right. This should be a habitual dislocation. After pushing her arm back, except for the pain, her movements were not affected.
After a while, a fat woman wearing an apron covered with oil came in. She put some leftovers in a bowl and dragged a dirty bag full of hard bread behind her.
After she threw these things into the room, the originally weak child jumped up like a hungry tiger and rushed towards the food frantically - Harley was the most agile. She didn't even look at the bowl of soup. She hugged her arms and grabbed at least five large pieces of hard bread.
Holding three in front of her chest and two under her arms, she flexibly bent her body, rolled on the ground, kicked away a child who was running slowly and blocking the way, and shrank back to the corner where she was originally.
She put all four pieces of bread in the gap between her back and the wall, then leaned against the corner tightly to protect the bread, and then tore the only piece of bread in her arms with her teeth like a wild beast.
Just kidding, she was a wanderer in Gotham, Harley thought, her parents had just died two days ago, and her uncle drove her out with the gangsters. The incident happened suddenly, and Harley had no weapons in her hands. In order to save her life, she had to leave obediently.
A middle-class girl was suddenly displaced. She had no gang connections and was very beautiful. Harley did everything she could to survive. She hid on that street for three months. Not to mention other children on the street, stray dogs all starved to death because they couldn't snatch her.
Harley stuffed a large piece of hard bread into her stomach in just a few tens of seconds, and she didn't even choke. Then she threw herself on the child next to her and bit his ear.
The boy next to him screamed. Harley wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, pushed the boy away, picked up the bread he had thrown away because of the pain, and stuffed it into her mouth like a starving ghost, completely ignoring the sand on it.
The children around her shrank in her direction because of fear. Harley's eyes fell on one person's bread every three seconds on average. Those who were stared at by her quickly grabbed their food and hid aside.
The food thrown in by the black lady looked a lot, but there were fifteen or sixteen children here. If it was distributed equally, each person could get a fist-sized piece of hard bread, and then dip it in some vegetable soup with salt and sugar, which was basically enough to not be full but not starving to death.
But the problem is that eating here depends on snatching. Harley grabbed five pieces of bread by himself, which means that four children may have nothing to eat, but in fact, bread is not the focus of the fight. The area around the dish of vegetable soup brought in is the most intense area.
Although the bread could fill their stomachs, the soup was hot and contained butter, which contained the fat that these children needed most. It was obvious that a small group was holding the bowl of soup. Several stronger children around were eyeing them eagerly but did not rush over. The others who were too thin and did not get the bread could only squat beside and stare, hoping to get some of the remaining soup.
But in another corner of the room, there was a boy who looked out of place. He had very conspicuous red hair, typical white sun spots on his face, and looked stronger than the others, but he squatted in the corner without saying a word or moving.
Harley naturally noticed the boy's abnormality. She looked at the boy from head to toe and determined that he should be Bruce Jr.
This was not particularly difficult to judge. After all, Bruce Jr. was not the future Batman. Some of his habitual little movements were not deliberately concealed. Harley had long discovered that when Bruce Jr. was thinking, his right index finger would habitually tap his arm.
Harley laughed in her heart. She didn't even need to think to know that Bruce Jr. must be thinking. The content of his thinking was definitely who brought him here, what conspiracy the other party had, where exactly this place was, how to break this trap, etc.
Harley bit another bite of bread viciously and curled her lips. She remembered that when she was just kicked out of the house by her uncle, she also sat on the riverbank of Gotham River all day thinking. The final result was that if she hadn't happened to find a hidden trash can on the corner of the street and no one was looking through it, she would have really starved to death.
Harley finished the small piece of bread she had snatched, and took out another piece of bread from behind and continued to eat it voraciously. She glanced at little Bruce and thought that this pampered young master must not know that this might be their only proper meal in two days.
Because she really ate it and knew that the bread she stuffed into her mouth was hard and unpalatable, but it was of high quality, and this black factory that raised child laborers would never provide them with such food every meal.
Sure enough, Harley's guess was completely correct. In addition to the meal in the morning, there was only cold water for lunch and dinner.
This is a food seasoning processing factory. The children's job is to add bags of raw materials into the pot and stir them. Don't ask why there is no assembly line. Electricity is much more valuable than hard bread and swill soup.
For adults, a bag of raw materials weighing more than ten pounds is not heavy. Even if it is tiring to carry and stir back and forth, it is not considered heavy physical labor. But the people working here are all children aged seven or eight, and the oldest is no more than ten years old. The bags of raw materials are carried on their shoulders and each person stirs a large pot. There is no rest in the middle. From six in the morning to twelve at noon, Harley's willpower is so tired that she is dizzy.
There is a half-hour break at noon, but it is not really for them to rest. It is mainly for them to go to the water room to wash their faces and hands, otherwise too much sweat will drip into the pot.
In the water room, Harley saw little Bruce with a livid face. When he washed his hands, his whole arm was shaking violently. If nothing unexpected happens, he will not be able to lift his arm in a few hours.
The way of exerting force is completely wrong, Harley shook her head and thought, if he doesn't tighten his core, exert force on his waist, back and shoulders at the same time, and stir with only the strength of his arms, he won't even be able to hold on until the next day.
Obviously, Bruce Wayne at this age has never done any heavy work. When his parents were still alive, the heaviest work he had done was to carry a children's bicycle down the three steps of the manor garden, and he had to be supported by Alfred.
He didn't eat anything in the morning, and this body may not have eaten anything for two days. In the afternoon, he was taught a lesson by hypoglycemia.
Little Bruce almost fell into the soup pot, but the adult in charge next to him was quick to pull him out, but his arm touched the heating part below and was burned with blisters.
After the person in charge pulled him out, he dragged him out directly, and little Bruce was beaten up, because if he really fell into the soup pot, the soup would be gone, and it was much more valuable than him.
When Harley finished a day's work and returned to the dormitory. Bruce was seen curled up in the corner, with large bruises on one side of his cheek, neck and arm, and his ankle was completely swollen, and it seemed that he could not walk.
Harley did not go to the bathroom to wash her face and hair, so she came back earlier than everyone else. She walked to Bruce's side and squatted down, grinning at him. Bruce recognized Harley immediately, that crazy smile was too recognizable.
"We have to find a way... find a way to escape..."
"Escape to where?"
Bruce opened his mouth and was about to speak, but Harley made a "tsk" sound with her tongue and said, "You don't think there is a place outside better than here, right? Wake up, young master! You are not Bruce Wayne!"
Bruce clenched his fists, obviously angry about Harley's words. He didn't understand why Harley accepted the fate of being abused so easily, not only did she not think of resisting, but she actually worked here.
"I belong here, Bruce." Harley's tone softened rarely. She said, "All the children in Gotham belong here. This is not our suffering, this is our life."
Little Bruce curled up on the ground in silence, saying nothing, but his eyes showed that he did not want to accept such a fate. Harley shook her head and walked to the corner on the other side and sat down.
After a while, she said, "If you can't survive in your current environment, how can you jump out? If you can't live well and strong here, you will understand that there is a deeper abyss below the place you think is the bottom of the valley."