Rat's Ascension

The smell was the first thing that always hit Gunter - a thick, overpowering stench that burrowed into his nostrils with every gulp of putrid air. Like rotting meat left to fester in the scorching summer sun, mixed with a sickly-sweet undertone of sewage and mold. Over time, his senses had regrettably grown somewhat accustomed to the vile reek. But never fully. Each morning when he descended into the dank depths below the city streets, that first gasping breath was always enough to make his empty stomach lurch anew."Quit dawdlin' up there, runt!" a gruff voice bellowed up the narrow access shaft. "Ain't payin' ya to catch whiffs for yer pleasure!"Gunter grimaced, thin shoulders sagging further as he tore his gaze from the distant patch of open sky and began the miserable climb down the rust-flaked iron rungs. The soles of his bare feet found the usual precarious toeholds, guiding him downward into the reeking gloom where Byrne and his crew were already waiting amidst the refuse-choked sewer tunnels."Look alive, sewertroupe," sneered Byrne, his rotund silhouette distending from the shadows as Gunter reached the dank landing. He leered at the scrawny twelve-year-old with an oily smirk. "We got a full stint ahead, clearin' the muck from the Highrise Avenue pipes."Gunter said nothing, simply nodding as he tuned out Byrne's usual rancid morning bravado. Fourteen years as the city's overmaster of duct and pipe maintenance meant the foul-tempered taskmaster had long perfected an inexhaustible repertoire of insults, mockeries and threats for his pathetic crew of sewer scrapings.An elbow caught Gunter's bony ribs, driving a whuff of stale vapor from his lungs. "Pay heed when the man's talkin' atcha, gormless rat!" spat Calley, Byrne's slap-jawed second-in-command.Gunter winced as a fat glob of spittle smacked against his cheek from the rough-looking cretin's loose lips. Sadly, such indignities were hardly worth registering these days. To complain or show defiance only invited further torment from the gang of tormenting slumlords tasked with overseeing the urchins who kept the bowels of the city running."If'n ya got a mind to slack like sackside scum, then mebbe I'll find better use for yah..." Byrne's drawling bellow took on a cruel edge as he produced a frayed coil of knotted rope from the shadows. He flicked it tauntingly at Gunter's face, relishing the instinctive flinch when the ragged end flirted with the boy's eye. "Nice tight corner for rat-runts who cause me troubles..."As Byrne chuckled and the leering Calley pretended to prep a noose's slipknot, Gunter felt that familiar swell of bitter dread churning in his gut. Every day for as long as he could remember had brought some fresh torment or waking misery down here, compounded by the relentless cycle of hunger, exhaustion and longing for something - anything - other than this wretched existence.But the other half of that ceaseless inner churn was the perpetual terror of the likely consequences should he dare try flee or defy his oppressors. His frail mother and two little sisters remained the only family he had left in this bleak and uncaring world. They depended on the meager coppers he earned shoveling filth throughout the drain networks to keep them fed and sheltered for another few days' survival.No matter how wretched or degrading the work or abusive taskmasters, the steadfast mantra remained the same: endure whatever torments were required to bring home those few grimy bits people turned their noses up at. It was the sole driving force that kept Gunter obediently shuffling forward to meet each new day's tribulations."Right then..." Byrne swaggered closer, his bulbous face all twisted into an exaggerated leer of glee. "Le's see if we can't put a bit more spring in yer scraggly step, eh?"The stout little man began swinging the weighted end of the knotted rope in an idle arc, clearly relishing the subtle flinch in Gunter's posture each time the fraying cords hissed past his ears.From the periphery, Gunter caught the smirking movements of the other urchins encircling their intended victim - Calley, Pox and a couple of the newer sewer-rats he hadn't bothered learning the names of. Slowly tightening their web of harassment with the ease of long practice.The first stinging lash struck Gunter squarely between the shoulder blades. He grunted at the fiery sting but kept his eyes locked on the ground. Don't react - never show them anything more than a twitch or groan. React, and it only invited further...Another whistling stroke sliced across his upper back, and another crisscrossing his shins."Thaaat's it, sewerbait!" jeered Calley from somewhere nearby. "Give us a nice dance and Byrne might let ya off for once!"Gunter held his ground, weathering their cruel gauntlet in grim stoicism as the lashes rained down fast and hard. Their earlier laughter at getting the usual rise from their victim turned to irritation as he simply absorbed strike after strike without so much as a grunt. Not nearly as entertaining when their prey didn't provide the desired spectacle."Hardcase li'l stickbug, ain'tcha..." A final vicious stroke landed squarely across Gunter's back, splitting skin and drawing the first raw hiss from between his teeth. The metallic tang of fresh blood mingled with the stagnant sewer reek as Byrne loomed over him, the knotted rope trailing from one meaty fist."We'll have to come up with a fresh approach to keepin' yer focus keen it seems..." he mused, his piggish gaze glinting with budding malice.The rest of the jeering crew began weighing in with suggestions, their tones laced with a malignant relish that sent tiny lances of trepidation worming through Gunter's battered frame. The last thing he wanted was to give them further impetus to concoct new and crueler ways of exacting their jollies upon him.Time to get a move on before their bloodlust spiked any higher.Without a word, Gunter turned and began plodding in the direction of the Highrise avenues' drainage juncture. Let the vultures have their laughs and flex their puny domains while they could. As long as he could keep shuffling forward and earn those few scrapings of wages for his family, it would all prove endurable.As always, the slogging trek toward their day's worksite commenced with the usual cascade of rancid banter and punishing jostles from the sludge-wading cretin pack. The insults and cruel gibes washed over Gunter as indiscriminately as the brackish filth sloshing around his calves with each unsteady step forward.How many miles of piping and culverts laced this sprawling decay of underground passageways? Too many to contemplate. What remained fixed in Gunter's mind was the endless cycle of drudgery – shoveling, ramrodding the clogged pipe joints, immersing himself waist-deep in the reeking quagmires to yank free flushed debris.All the while braced for the vile repartee and arbitrary punishments at the hands of their vicious overseers. No matter how swiftly or meticulously he strived to perform their demeaning tasks, Byrne and his thugs always seemed to find some perceived shortcoming or minor infraction that warranted a savage reminder of their dominance over the wretched children conscripted into this labor.