Danny started his day with a run, a habit he hadn’t followed for years. Today felt different though. He decided to push himself, wanting to test his limits for the first time in a long time. He started with a casual jog and slowly raised his pace. He kept raising it until he was just below a full-blown sprint, but his breathing barely fell out of a controlled rhythm. He had no idea how long he ran until he finally began to wane, his breathing becoming dysregulated and his muscles crying out. When he circled the block and made it home he realised he’d been out for over half an hour. Half an hour of almost sprinting? Yeah, something's up.
He had an appointment at the hospital soon and he was definitely going to ask some questions. Whatever was going on with his body was beyond strange. He wasn’t new to physical activity, it was practically all he’d done with his life before university, so he knew how strange his condition was. Even at his peak, he hadn’t been this fit. Hell, he wasn’t even sore after training last night.
He had a shower and chucked on some baggy clothes, a staple of his wardrobe, but they also served a purpose today. After dreaming all night long Danny had made his decision. He didn’t bother telling anyone where he was going, which he knew wasn’t the smartest of decisions, but he knew anyone he told would just try and stop him. He was heading to the Station.
The encampment was on the edge of the city, in the parklands. As he caught a bus that went out that way he felt his anxiety begin to rise. He knew what he was doing was beyond stupid, but his desire to learn anything about what had happened that night was overriding his reason. Danny checked his pockets, panicking for a second when he felt nothing. He remembered that he had purposely brought nothing, just in case. He had learned not to judge people as much in recent years, but he was heading into the lions' den. If there was anywhere in Madley you were likely to get mugged, it would probably be the Station.
As Danny walked through the parklands he began to encounter tents. It was sparse at first, but as he covered more distance the amount grew until he made it to the notorious tent city. As his eyes fell on the Station for the first time he was almost overwhelmed. The sight was disturbing at a minimum. He had seen the videos of the streets of Skid Row in America but never expected to see something similar, if not worse, so close to home.
The ground was littered with tents and trash, the level of grime matched only by the bodies on the same ground. Danny could barely tell if the bodies he saw were alive or not, they lay unmoving, vacantly staring. This was juxtaposed by the violent confrontations breaking out everywhere across the encampment, yells and shouts being exchanged before blows.
Danny watched in horrified interest as a man pulled out a knife, about to lunge at the man he had just been yelling at. A voice yelled at the man, causing him to freeze. A stocky man built like a bulldog stomped over and slapped the knife out of the man's hand before beating him down to the ground, stomping his body beneath a leather boot.
Danny wished he didn’t, but he knew that man. Danny made sure his hood was covering his face and ducked his head. With his height, he already stood out, but the last thing he needed was to be recognised here. Danny realised he had no idea how he was going to find what he was looking for. He began to walk around the camp, doing his best to not look out of place, which proved impossible. Everyone he passed stared at him like the sore thumb that he was. His clothes were too clean, he moved too normally, not a shambling, drugged-up, husk, like most of the people here.
Danny began to panic, the realisation of how out of his depth he truly was finally dawning. Why had he thought it would be a good idea to come here? He had tricked himself into thinking that it wouldn’t be as bad as he knew it would be. He knew how bad it was here, he heard it constantly from the guys who managed to get out.
As his mind began to quake his eyes fell on a familiar face. A homeless man he hadn’t seen in months. “Steve?”
The man’s eyes drifted to Danny’s a faint light of recognition shining behind them, but that was it. The man just stared blankly at him. Danny’s insides coiled. He had talked to this man, he knew a bit of his life story, and he knew how hard he had been trying to get clean. Yet here he was. “Steve…” Danny didn’t know what to say to the man.
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“You looking for something, mate?” A gruff voice called out.
Danny turned to see the bulldog-like man standing behind him. He was with a younger man, who Danny knew as well. Danny knew that both of these guys would recognise him if they saw his face.
“I’m looking for a friend. I heard he was here.” Danny kept his head low, trying to hide his face, it was difficult as he towered above the shorter man.
The bulldog man chortled. “This ain’t the place for making friends. I’ll give you a chance to get the fuck out of here before I break your arms, mate.”
Danny nodded, not saying anything and went to turn away. He was stopped by a young voice, “Oi, take your hood down. Let me get a look at you.”
“What the fuck are you doing Ralphie,” the bulldog grunted.
Danny didn’t turn around and tried to start walking away.
“Oi. If you don’t want to die, turn around and take your hood down.”
Danny sighed and turned around. He stood at his full height and pulled down his hood. The bulldog looked surprised and the younger man grinned. “Danny Fucking Skala. What in the fuck are you doing here.”
“Looking for a friend,” Danny replied curtly.
The younger man, Ralphie, a terrible fighter if Danny was to say anything about it, grinned. He openly flashed a pistol he was hiding in his waistband. “I heard you went into hiding after getting dumped by the princess.”
Danny said nothing, anything he did say would only add fuel to the fire.
“Ralphie…” the bulldog cautioned the younger man, clearly more aware of the situation.
“Shut it, dickhead. This asshole got to act all high and mighty when he was in with the main line, thinking he was hot shit just because he could fight some. Look at him now, scurrying around a shithole like this. What, did you go and become a junkie as well?” Ralphie jeered.
“I’m looking for a friend,” Danny repeated, his voice taking a cold edge.
The bulldog bristled, having worked with Danny in the past, he knew what Danny could be like. “Ralphie, drop it.”
“You know, I think I saw the friend you were looking for. Yeah, he went into the tunnels. How about you go looking for him?”
“Enough Ralphie, don’t push it.” The bulldog was sweating.
Danny stared at Ralphie, gaze unflinching. The younger man shivered and suddenly pulled out the pistol he had been flashing. “Who the fuck are you to look at me like that?”
Danny raised his hands slowly but didn’t say anything.
“Ralphie put the fucking gun away you retard,” the bulldog snapped. Some of the people in the area around them who weren’t completely out of it began to take their phones out. Doing a poor job of hiding that they were recording. The bulldog began to sweat even more, the situation quickly growing out of hand. He swore he was going to kill the guy who thought it was a good idea to let Ralphie carry.
“Nah fuck off dickhead. Danny, you’re going into the tunnel.” Ralphie gestured with the pistol toward an ominous tunnel at the far end of the camp. There were no tents near it, no people daring to get close.
Danny looked at the tunnel and then back at Ralphie. The younger man grinned. “Let’s see how tough you are after spending a night in there, shithead.”
Ralphie began to push Danny toward the tunnel. Danny didn’t resist, getting shot wasn’t high on his priority list. Especially not after just leaving the emergency department.
“Danny don’t,” the bulldog was in full panic now. “Ralphie cut the shit. This won’t end well for you.”
“Nah, I bet the princess will be well happy to hear I’m taking care of her trashy ex.”
Danny soon found himself standing in front of the tunnel, which was only just a bit taller than he was, and maybe only three or four men wide. The wooden slacks of the track were rotten-through and the tracks themselves were rusty.
Danny turned around to see Ralphie aiming the pistol at him and the bulldog looking like he was about to keel over from stress.
“Go on then, unless you’d rather cop a bullet?” Raplhie gestured with the pistol.
Danny turned and stepped into the darkness.