I clamber down, the rusted metal ladder, my shoes echoing around the cabin walls, and

with a grunt, I jump down from the low most wrong to the part of trash and scrap beneath,

my flashlight passing over the steaming, humid heaps in the darkness.

Yes, I'm a madman.

I get my kicks exploring my city sewer networks, it's gotten to the point now that I know the

waterway system like the back of my hand, I'm not in any danger, and I'm not going

to get suddenly flooded out and wash the way like in the cartoons.

That being said, however, I've gotten a little deeper than normal this time, I just couldn't

help myself.

I mean, come on, a secret door took away in the shadows of an underground alcove, way

out by the far edge of the city's sewers, I just had to go down.

The first time I tried, I opened the door and saw the ladder, and chickened out.

The same story with attempt number two.

But here I am, third attempt and a week later, down at the bottom of the ladder in question.

Lower than I thought it was possible to go in this secretive underground cavern.

Batman, you down here, I goled out into the gloom, and my voice warbles and echoes to

the darkness, bouncing off the rock walls and the correct remains of the concrete beams.

Poor attempt at a joke.

I swallow, listening as my echo reverberates further and further away.

Water leaks and drips from little rivulets in the ceiling, which is to say the rocky

roof of this enormous cavern.

I think I can hear it streaming somewhere nearby as well.

...