At the end of a back alley off Rolling Heads Street in the East Side, a cellar door clicked as its bolt was undone. A black-haired boy in a red jacket jumped out first, followed by a red-haired boy wearing glasses.
The boy with glasses grabbed his companion's arm, seemingly trying to stop him from leaving. "Hey, Jason, don't do this. Batman's been prowling around here a lot lately. If you go out stealing tonight, he'll definitely catch you!"
The boy called Jason turned around and said, "You were the one who told me that big tire we pried off before wouldn't sell. That's why I have to go. Otherwise, the younger kids in the Rolling Heads Gang are going to go hungry!"
The brown-haired boy kept trying to persuade him, but Jason impatiently shook off his hand. "Little Rascal, I know you're capable. Those famous gang bosses on Elizabeth Street are all asking you to work for them."
"But we're different. Rolling Heads Street is already in a terrible location. We have to push south and seize territory so our members can make money. But if we can't even eat enough, where are we supposed to get the strength to fight?"
Little Rascal pushed up his glasses. "That's exactly why I'm stopping you, Jason. You're the leader of the Rolling Heads Gang. If Batman catches you, the remaining members really won't have any way to survive."
Jason anxiously grabbed at his hair, but Little Rascal pulled him back toward the cellar. Jason was at a loss and let himself be dragged inside.
Inside the cellar was a small workshop. There were two battered workbenches covered in all sorts of tools. Only one toolbox looked relatively new, sitting on a cleaner table.
Most strikingly, one of the workbenches held an