The first thing I noticed was the voices. It was like standing downtown in the middle of rush hour, except there were no car horns or the stink of exhaust.
The pit smelled like nothing I'd ever experienced—earthy, fresh, alive. It was nothing like the Gotham I knew, nothing like the smoke-choked, piss-soaked streets above. The air carried something almost… unnatural. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck rise, like I was walking through the lungs of something ancient, something that breathed.
I was led down a series of winding roads with someone's hand on my shoulder as a guide. I caught far-off snickers of "Fresh meat" and "Another cocky dipshit."
Eventually, we came to a stop. When the mask came off, I was in a luxurious room.
The office was nothing like I expected. The walls were dark polished wood carved with intricate designs, the scent of aged oak thick in the air. A massive wooden desk dominated the center, its surface smooth and unyielding. Behind it sat a woman with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, her presence sharp as a blade. A bookshelf lined one wall, stocked with old tomes and small artifacts—some decorative, some likely not.
I could tell instantly. This woman was the real deal.
She studied me, a smirk playing across her lips, fingers tapping lightly against the desk.
"Julius." Her voice was smooth. "I've been hearing your name float around lately."
I met her gaze, keeping my face neutral. "Good things, I hope."
"Interesting things." She leaned forward, elbows on her desk. "Some say you're a street rat with more bite than sense. Others say you're a fighter who doesn't know when to stay down."
I kept my eyes on her, neither confirming nor denying it.
"What do you say?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
I hesitated. A test.
"I say I get back up when I fall," I said finally. "And I don't stop until I get what I want."
Her eyes gleamed with approval.
"Good." She leaned back, fingers interlocking. "Your spirit will serve you well here. All of my fighters hit hard."
With the baying crowd outside, I wondered just how many fighters she had. Was this some kind of Roman Colosseum-type deal, or was I looking at something bigger?
"Impressive setup you've got," I said, glancing around. "Didn't expect something this… grand."
She chuckled. "Gotham underestimates Queen Ivy. Always has. They only see what she was, not what she has become." Her smile sharpened. "But she built this. She grew this. And here, in her world, nature is stronger than steel and stone."
The reverence in her voice was unmistakable. I was beginning to understand why you never heard of in-fighting among Ivy's ranks. The power was only half the equation. They respected her. She was the queen of a kingdom above and beneath the surface. I wondered how far her influence truly reached.
Maybe I'd gotten into business with the wrong Gotham boss.
She must've caught something in my expression because her lips stretched even wider. "Starting to wonder if you made a mistake?"
"No. I—" I took a breath, forcing myself to relax. "Just adjusting my expectations."
Her laugh was soft but knowing. "Good. Now, let's see if you can live up to mine."
"Sally," she called, looking past me. "Make sure he understands the rules."
Sally smirked at me. "Come on, rookie."
I followed Sally past a pair of twisted wooden doors, and the space opened up into something that shouldn't have been possible.
It was a city.
A damn city beneath Gotham.
That answered my earlier question.
Roads twisted and curved, organic and winding like veins, leading into structures made entirely of wood, earth, and vines. Soft, bioluminescent light pulsed from the walls, casting a greenish glow over the entire place. I pulled air into my lungs—clean and fresh, like a forest untouched by pollution, by mankind.
I stopped walking, eyes sweeping over the impossible view. I caught Sally staring and tried to snuff out the surprise in my eyes.
Sally snorted. "Take it in, rookie. Doesn't matter how tough you are—everyone's got that look the first time they see it."
My mind raced, trying to wrap itself around the scale of this. Jesus. Ivy pulled this off? Suddenly, the title Queen Ivy seemed more appropriate.
"She built all this?" I muttered.
"She didn't just build it," Sally said, a note of pride in her voice. "She willed it. Every root, every vine, every structure—it all answers to her."
I exhaled slowly. "How have the government or Batman not torn this place down already?"
Sally smirked. "Because they can't find it." She started walking away. "No one can. The Queen made sure of that."
I frowned. "How?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
Even with Ivy's powers, she couldn't stop people like Superman, who could reportedly see through walls. But the way Sally said it—so certain, so absolute—told me I wouldn't be getting a deeper explanation. It also told me Ivy was even more impressive than I was giving her credit for.
I let it go for now and kept moving.
As we walked, I saw more of the underground. There were rows and rows of rooms with people coming in and out of them. Fighters warmed up in open-air sparring rings. People sat around an open-aired mess hall, and a scant few hung around bars and restaurants built into living trees.
"Everything you see is free to use for fighters. Well, except the restaurants and the weapon stalls. Those cost you money."
"H-how. Why?"
"Because the Queen doesn't want you distracted. We got viewers all over the world, you know?" she said, marching toward the city center. The fighting arena was what I expected. An actual Colosseum. It was obviously smaller than the real thing, and people milled out of it by the hundreds.
"Your job is to win fights, make money, and if you're feeling adventurous, take bets on yourself and others."
"And what's the catch?" Something about the phrasing didn't seem right.
She smirked. "Don't lose."
"What?"
"Don't lose more than two matches in a row, or you become a spectator."
I raised a brow. "And I'm guessing the spectators pay for everything?"
She tapped her nose. "Now you're getting it."
I nodded. That seemed fair enough.
"All fighters get free emergency care, too," she added. "Since, y'know, Ivy doesn't want corpses stinkin' up the place."
We got closer to the Arena, and I noticed it was equal parts twisted roots and stone. The energy from the crowd was palpable. The screen hanging from one of the entrances seemed so out of place that I was almost certain my eyes were playing tricks on me. They displayed the upcoming fights.
Sally turned to me. "One last thing." She pulled a wooden mask from a nearby stall and handed it to me.
"For anonymity," she said. "These fights end up all over the dark web. You never know who's watching."
The mask was unbelievably light and porous enough for me to see and breathe clearly through.
"Just hold it to your face, and it wraps around it," she explained. "You gotta pull it by the jaw to make it let go."
"I take it Ivy made this?" I said, looking at the mask with some awe. She gave me a flat look as an answer.