Batman Alleyway Novels & Stories

She won’t be able to enter this alley tonight. Anna looked at the blocked path. What bad luck today! Besides this alley, there is another alley that can return to her house, but that alley is quite empty, and the surrounding security is complicated. Because of that, Anna rarely went into that alley, and if she did, she would only go before it was dark. Anna looked at her watch, looked at the danger sign in front of her again, gritted her teeth, and then turned to leave. ‘Let's plunge today! It’s already too late.’ thought Anna, who had an electric baton in her pocket today.

If I ran home, I’d be handing him my front door on a silver platter. I kept my pace steady, tapping my foot rhythmically against the wet pavement. "Alright, asshole," I muttered under my breath, adjusting the strap of my canvas bag. "Let's see how well you know these streets." I’d spent the last two weeks pounding the pavement here, mapping every blind alley, dead end, and cut-through until I knew this neighborhood like the back of my hand. If he wanted a chase, I was going to give him one. Instead of taking the direct route down 5th Avenue, I hung a sharp left into the narrow alleyway behind the old laundromat. The passage was packed with overflowing dumpster bins and stacks of soggy cardbo

“Of all days, Lance! You couldn’t have picked a slower criminal?! The last time I ran was in high school and that was like 20 years ago.” The guy made a sharp turn, slipping into a narrow alley. I pushed harder, feet pounding against the ground. The alley was tight and barely wide enough for all three of us. It was all filled with stacked crates and trash bags lined at the sides, making it a nightmare to navigate. So I risked a glance at Bryan. “Split up!” He doesn’t hesitate and veers left while I take the shortcut on the right, a narrow path curving around the alley. If my guess is right…

"We never have been, not this whole time." "Does he trust you?" Andy's next words are careful. "I mean, do you think you can get close to him?" [Flashback--Last Weekend--Elysium] "Where are we?" "My lair," he smirks as he claps twice and the lights along the walls spark to life. "And you, my dear, are my captive." "OK, Batman," I laugh. He smirks at my flippant comment, amused by my response. "It is my apartment," he explains, "This a place that is completely unlisted and isn't recorded anywhere as an asset. According to the official blueprints, this place is a storage closet.

Kael stepped out from behind Jackson. Before the guard could blink, Kael moved. He disarmed the guard, sweeping his legs, and pointing the shotgun at the second guard's chin. "We have weapons," Kael said coldly. "Open the door." The guards hesitated, then backed down. "You people are crazy. Go in." The Bazaar. It was a cavernous subway station converted into a market. Stalls sold stolen tech, illegal drugs, and cybernetic limbs. The neon lights flickered over the desperate faces of the city's outcasts.

So instead I focused on getting to my workplace. I used the dark alley, which was familiar most times, but today I could feel fear threading through the pit of my stomach. I walked through the dark alley to the back door; a neon red sign that read “EXIT” was my way in. As I pushed the door open, entering through a dark, windowless hallway, a slow thumping beat echoed through the walls. I passed by the main stripper bar to see women on poles, clad in nothing but net clothing that left little to the imagination.

I hesitate at the door, then slip out of my jacket to strap on the shoulder holster with the Colt 1911 before slipping back into itand heading out. *** They call Doyers Street Murder Alley. It’s the perfect place for any killing you would want to commit under the cover of gang violence. One block long with a sharp ninety-degree angle in the middle, it runs from Pell Street to the Bowery at Chatham Square and is—according to the cops—the bloodiest intersection in America. There are probably two reasons for this. One is the sharp bend in the street whence comes the nickname, “The Bloody Angle,” a feature that lends itself well to gang ambushes. The other is a pedestrian tunnel that runs under

He didn’t have a good feeling about this. “Boss, should I approach him?” That question halted him and Barty. They were now in the corner of the second street. People were now curiously looking at them. “Why? What is he doing?” He signaled Barty to go to an alley on his left. They already mapped out the surrounding streets here in case something happened and at the end of that alley was an opening to the third street. “He suddenly stops and now standing in the middle of the road like a statue.”

It’s not like she had anything to fear. Ten more minutes securing that night’s money and she was out using the back door that gave into the alley at the back of the bar. If people thought the front of the bar was creepy, then they hadn’t seen the back yet. The alley was nothing more than a narrow passage between two buildings. It was so narrow and cluttered with empty boxes and crates that it made it almost impossible to get through without stumbling. And to make matters worse, it was dark. There were no security lights, not even the natural light of the moon could make it through because of the way the buildings had been placed.

A narrow alley stretched between two old buildings—dark, easy to miss. “There. Less attention.” Without waiting, I pulled her along. The alley was tight, barely wide enough for the two of us. The walls were damp, stained with cracks and grime. A musty smell hit us the deeper we went, our footsteps echoing faintly. “This place…” Lorian murmured, uneasy. “It doesn’t look promising, Alex. I don’t like it.” “I’m not looking for promising,” I replied coldly. “I’m looking for unnoticed. In case you’ve forgotten, we’re being hunted.”