(Holl's P.O.V)

Breath fills my lungs.

My eyes blink open. Where am I?

And why is it so cold?

Did I forget to close the cabin window again?

I got up, my hand landing on a pool of wetness.

I looked down at it. There was a pool of stagnant water under me. A puddle. And the scent of rain permeated the area.

I turned my gaze up.

This is most definitely not my bedroom.

Above me, jutting off into the gloomy and dark sky, were tall buildings, skyscrapers of enormous size constructed with a gothic aesthetic.

Gargoyles sat on spires at the edges of the buildings, adding to the terror the gloomy skies and the flashing lightning in them cast over the city.

At least I assume it's a city.

So...

This can't be normal.

The first thing my mind landed on when I thought of any possible reason I was not inside my thin blanket in the cabin of our small boat, was... reincarnation.

I was a sailor.

Having grown up off the coast of Tijuana, life hadn't exactly been smooth sailing.

After high school, my ailing Dad needed money for his treatment, so I decided to abandon all prospects of college and focus on the family business, fishing.

The money wasn't bad. We kept up with his medication but... business wasn't exactly booming either.

But that was usually very dependent on the seasons. And even in the good seasons, fishing was hard business.

Very hard. It was just me and him doing all the work.

But he dutifully taught me all he knew and so between the two of us, we made it work somehow.

Last night I remember drinking with him after another unsuccessful day out at sea.

He'd lamented that the only reason his wife, my mother, had left was because of me.

It's fitting to note that my Dad and I didn't have...the best of relationships.

After that, all I remember was excusing myself with the same fire in my belly I always had whenever he blamed me for fucking his life up.

Then I stumbled into my bed and then...

Nothing.

And now I was here.

In a concrete jungle when all my life, I'd spent time out in the open. The Sandy beaches, the wide expanse of the Ocean.

The salty breeze...

A wide grin threatened to split my face in two.

"Finally."

My deep voice reverberated out across the Alley.

"I'm Free."

Truthfully speaking, I didn't miss any of that.

Life in a backwater village off the coast of Mexico was hard, so Fuck that.

To me, this was true freedom.

Yes, I was in a stinking alleyway, soaked with rain from the recent downpour.

And yes, dammit! I was cold and hungry.

But...

"Fuck yeah!!"

I yelled to the gloomy sky, lightning flashing in the clouds above me.

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"Hahaha!!!!"

My chest deflated as I finally said what I wouldn't have before,

"I hope you die at sea you miserable old fuck!!"

I roared, laughter bubbling out of me.

"You destroyed my dreams!!! I hope the last thing you think of when water fills up your lungs and you drown...is just how much of a pathetic and weak man you were!"

I concluded, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders.

Fuck that old loser of a Father. Old man never gave me a break...

"Shut up you fucking weirdo."

A voice reached me from a bundle of clothes lying next to a dumpster.

I blinked.

Huh, seems like in my elation, I might have woken someone up.

A homeless person.

From the build, they looked to be about my size. And they had a really nice raincoat...

And I was soaked.

Another savage smile split across my face.

10 minutes later, I was walking on the sidewalk, a grey raincoat over my wet clothes.

It wasn't ideal but the homeless guy's other clothes stank too much so I didn't 'borrow' them from him.

He should be grateful I only took the raincoat.

Still...I needed to get some warm clothes before I caught a cold. My body was used to harsh weather but I had seen a common cold take more than one fisherman down.

But before even that, I had to solve the question of where I was and how to deal with my hunger problem.

I should have just asked the homeless guy which city this was. But I'd forgotten to do that. 

So down I walked the sidewalk, and for a city, people were scarce. Traffic was low too.

I'd only ever been to a city once.

My hometown, Tijuana was a hub of culture and life. And crowds of people from all over, would fill the streets.

That was coincidentally the last place I ever saw my mother. 

We went for a family outing as three, but came back home as two. She'd left us.

The next day, my father and I would arrive at our modest home on the outskirts of the city, which was more like a shack...and her absence would not be felt.

He never explained why she left.

I never asked either.

Why would I? Since birth, I'd understood something crucial no... love was lost between my parents and I.

They were devoid of any human emotion.

Like...dolls.

And so I realized,

You're in it alone.

And then you die.

But that's besides the point.

On that single trip to the city, crowds of people had shoved and pushed on each other as they went about their daily lives.

Clearly this was not the case here.

Though to be honest, it was in the evening so maybe most people were already in their homes.

Safe in the comfort of warmth and food.

My belly rumbled.

I shivered as a cold breeze blew past me. Looking up, the clouds were ominously flashing with lightning.

"It's going to rain again soon."

I said to myself.

I needed to find shelter. But how am I supposed to do that when I don't even know where I am? And asking people that kind of question would only make me look crazy. 

I breathed in, smelling the scent of sea water in the air.

So, a city near a large mass of water.

Most probably an ocean. So a coastal city. Good to know. Maybe there were some spots in the docks I could use.

Abandoned or moored boats. The amount of people who left their fancy sail boats unlocked was more than you would expect.

Besides, that would be familiar territory.

But getting there was another issue.

My stomach rumbled once more.

I rummaged through my pockets once more, no money. And the Homeless guy had had none I could 'borrow'.

I hadn't carried anything except for my pen-knife, which was secured in the pocket of my jean shorts.

But that wasn't going to help with the food problem or the cold.

Not to mention the looks I was getting from the people walking on the sidewalk. Most kept a wide berth.

Some stared at me strangely. As if they had never seen a tall gangly teen dressed in a long rain coat, shorts and sandals before.

Huh,

Guess I can't blame them.

A few minutes passed, and I found myself leaving the commercial sector of the city, only to enter a part that was in one word, dilapidated.

The stretch of buildings were a collection of peeling off paint, shattered glass windows, graffiti and Gang signs spray painted on the walls of boarded off buildings.

A few restaurants that didn't look as if they would pass inspection, lined up the blocks along with some closed stores and other businesses.

The final thing that stood out were the Gang members hanging around in the street.

Some looked me over before ignoring me. Not surprising as I didn't look any different from the bundles of human garbage sleeping on the street.

Seriously why were there do many homeless people? 

I was cautious as I walked, hand wrapped around the handle of my pen-knife.

I could handle myself well. But I was wary of fighting without knowing exactly where this was. 

But my luck eventually dried out, as 2 gang members blocked my way.

I stopped, face impassive as we stared at each other. I didn't even bother to study them. Why? To me they were no different from low lives. 

"We don't want your kind here."

The first said with a snarl meant to be intimidating, rotten teeth in display. 

I said nothing, only action I took was surveying my scene. Could I fuck them up and get away with it?

No.

Their friends were watching the interaction curiously. Any other person who passed by us did it quickly. Clearly no one wanted to be caught up in whatever this was. 

"Hey, you heard me Hombre?"

Gang member 1 got impatient at my silence, grabbing me by the collar of my rain coat. 

I stared down at him, the height difference becoming apparent. I was 6'4, the guy was 5'8 at best, only packed with more muscles.

That didn't matter. He would bleed like the rest. 

"Let go."

I warned, eyes full of apathy. 

"Or what?"

Gang Member 2 finally spoke up. The rest began to slowly approach, creating a circle around me, sealing off any exits. 

"This is our turf son."

1,2...8. 

8 of them.

Okay, maybe I can take down a few but not all of them. I had the option of stepping back, apologizing and hoping that they wouldn't fuck me up too much.

I also had the option of killing them.

"You bastards really wanna do this huh?"

I must have looked like the Devil as I smiled at them.

"I've never killed anyone before. I wonder...how it feels."

They stared at one another, a little wary. Gang member 1 reached into his pants...only for a kick to get planted on his face by a descending form.

It was sudden. It was quick.

And goddamn did she have an ass under that cape. 

And I guess this confirms what I suspected all along. I was in another world. To be specific, I was in DC. And this was Gotham.

Why else would Batgirl of all people come to my rescue?