Chapter 1770 S: The Great Event of Apocalypse (Thirty-Seven)

When Harley opened her eyes, she found herself huddled in the corner of a broken room. She tried to lift her arms and found that one arm seemed to be dislocated. She used her other hand to roll up the sleeve and saw that From the bruises on her forearms to the abrasions on her waist and legs, it seemed like someone had dragged her here by the arms.

Except for the first movement, Harry did not move. He still half-closed his eyes and only used the narrow field of vision under his eyelids to look at the environment in the room.

Harley is a native of Gotham, so she looked around and knew that this was probably the dormitory of a black factory. It was said to be a dormitory, but it was actually a room separated from the factory for child workers to rest. There were almost Fifteen or sixteen children her age.

Harley spent almost five seconds recalling how she got here, and then she also 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 been Gotham.

After thinking about these things clearly, the first thing Harry did was to close his eyes and sleep.

This body has probably never had a full meal. It has been working all day and is shaking all over from exhaustion. Perhaps it offended the foreman and dislocated its arm. It is very likely that there will be no food for the whole day tomorrow. If you don't take the time to rest now and let your body adapt to this state, you may end up comatose due to hypoglycemia soon.

Harley slept through it until the next morning.

It wasn't until the faint light shone through the crack in the door that Harley had time to take a closer look at herself. The little girl she possessed was about seven or eight years old, and was as thin as a chopstick with an egg stuck in it. .

Her arms were weakly placed on the side, and her face looked much better. After all, Harley would not be afraid or worried. After a solid sleep, at least she was fully rested mentally.

After regaining a little bit of strength, Harley first pressed her arm on one side and pushed it up. After a groan, the arm was hung up.

Harley found that her guess was indeed correct. This was probably a habitual dislocation. After pressing her arm back, her movements were not affected except for soreness.

After a while, a fat woman wearing a greasy apron came in. She filled a basin with some leftovers 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 crazily. Harry was the most agile and did not even look at the dish with soup. , hugging his arms, he grabbed at least five large pieces of hard bread.

Holding three in front of her chest and two more under her arms, she flexibly arched her body and rolled on the ground. She kicked away a child who was running slowly and blocked the road, and shrank to where she was originally. That corner.

She placed all four pieces of bread in the gap between her back and the corner of the wall, then leaned her body tightly against the corner, protecting the bread airtightly, and then tore it with her teeth like a wild beast. The only piece of bread in my arms.

Just kidding, she was a homeless person in Gotham, Harley thought. Just two days after her parents died, her uncle drove her out with gangsters. The incident happened suddenly. Harley had no weapons in her hands. In order to save her life I can only 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 the street for three months, let alone the street. The other children and stray dogs all starved to death because they couldn't catch her.

It took Halle just a few dozen seconds to stuff a large piece of hard bread into her stomach without even choking. Then she pounced on the child next to her and bit his ear. .

The boy next to him let out a scream. Harry wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, pushed the child away, picked up the bread that he had thrown away because of the pain, completely ignoring the sand and soil on it, and then He stuffed it into his mouth like a starving ghost.

Several children around him shrank in his direction out of fear. On average, Harley's eyes fell on someone's bread every three seconds, and the people she stared at quickly grabbed their food and hid aside.

The food that the black aunt threw in looked like a lot, but there were fifteen or sixteen children here. If it were distributed evenly, each person could get a piece of hard bread about the size of a fist, and then dip it in vegetable soup with salt and sugar. Basically, it’s the level of not having enough to eat but not starving to death.

But the problem is that eating here depends on grabbing. Hallie grabbed five pieces of bread alone, which means that four children may have nothing to eat. But in fact, bread is not the focus of the fight. The plate of food that was brought in The area around the soup was where the fighting was most intense.

Although the bread can wrap the belly, the vegetable soup is hot, and there is butter in it to provide the fat that these children are most in need of. It can be clearly seen that a small group is controlling the vegetable soup basin, and there are several stronger ones around it. The children watched eagerly but did not move over rashly. 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 base.

But in another corner of the room, there was a boy who looked out of place. He had very conspicuous red hair and a very typical Caucasian sunburn on his face. He also looked stronger than the others, but he squatted The corner said nothing and did not move.

Harley naturally noticed something unusual about the boy. She looked at the boy from head to toe and determined that he should be little Bruce.

This is not particularly difficult to judge. After all, Bruce is not the future Batman. Some of his habitual small movements are not deliberately concealed. Harley has long discovered that when Bruce is thinking, his right index finger will habitually tap his arm.

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Harley laughed in her heart. She didn't even need to think to know that Bruce must be thinking. The content of his thinking is definitely who brought him here, what conspiracy the other party has, where is this place, how to break this trap, etc.

Harley took another vicious bite of the bread 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, and 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.

After Harley finished the small piece of bread she had snatched, she took out another piece of bread from her back and continued to devour it. After she glanced at little Bruce, she thought that this pampered young master must not know that this might be their only proper meal in two days.

Because she had really eaten it and knew that although the bread she stuffed into her mouth was hard and unpalatable, 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. Apart from this 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 kilograms is not considered heavy. Even if it is tiring to carry and stir back and forth, it is not considered heavy physical labor. However, 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, without any rest in the middle. From six in the morning to twelve at noon, Harley's willpower makes her dizzy and 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 his head and thought, if he does not tighten the core, exert force on the waist, back and shoulders at the same time, and stir only with the strength of the arm, he will not even be able to persist 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 with Alfred's help.

He had not eaten anything in the morning, and this body had probably not 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 got a blister.

After the manager pulled him out, he dragged him out directly. Little Bruce was beaten up, because if he really fell into the soup pot, the soup would be gone, and it was worth much more than him.

When Harley returned to the dormitory after a day's work, she saw little Bruce 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 didn't go to the bathroom to wash her face and hair, so she came back earlier than everyone else. She walked to Bruce's side, squatted down, and smiled at him. Bruce recognized Harley immediately. That crazy smile was so 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 better than here outside, 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 the current environment, how can you jump out? If you can't live well and strongly here, you will understand that there is a deeper abyss below the place you think is the bottom of the valley."