Jason knew, of course, that he hadn't managed to sell the car.
In fact, after he drove the car to the dealership, the owner nearly fainted from fright. His expression looked as if he wanted to tear Jason apart alive. Unlike usual, he didn't put on an act and disparage the car Jason had stolen while anxiously watching his back, complain about how Jason's carelessness and recklessness had added so much damage to it, and then offer a pitifully meager price.
This time, he simply told Jason to get lost.
At that moment, Jason would rather have been cursed out like usual, because that would at least have proved the dealership owner still wanted to buy the car.
Under the man's orders, he could only drive the car away. He tried several other dealerships in the East End, but he got the same response from all of them.
"If you don't want to die, you'd better return this car. It's too damn haunted."
Jason was extremely depressed. Most of the children in the Car Gang had already gone hungry for two days. They had no food, no hot water, and no clothes. Even their shelter had been cobbled together from abandoned, dilapidated buildings they had found. They were all hungry, exhausted, and cold.
This winter was even colder than usual. Many of the children already had chilblains on their hands and feet. All they could do was wait for Jason to return with money—or food and hot water would do as well. But he couldn't do it. Like the past few winters, all he could do was watch his friends freeze or starve to death.
Every year, only several hundred people in Gotham City died because of crime. But no one knew how many were left partially disabled or permanently