Even after hearing gunshots over the phone, Drake's expression remained calm. He asked through the phone, "Donald, are you busy?"
The rough male voice on the other end sounded patient.
After hearing Drake's words, Donald answered slowly and deliberately, "I'm not busy now, just wrapping things up."
"Bang!"
"Here's the thing: I have a friend who just arrived in Gotham. The skills he has are just what a normal person would have, and they're basically useless in Gotham City."
"Do you want him to work for me?"
"Don't you have a restaurant? This friend's face is perfect for attracting women to come dine. He's not good with fighting or killing, but he's not easily scared either. He's just an ordinary guy, but he's good at talking and brave. He doesn't get nervous in front of people."
"The good at talking means he might not keep secrets."
"Bang!"
"Please, don't—"
"Bang!"
"I promise you, he won't say anything—he's just a normal guy. He wouldn't risk his life just to brag."
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
A few more gunshots rang out on the other end of the phone. After a moment, the rough male voice spoke again, "Drake, I'm even with you now."
"Of course."
"Is that kid with you?"
Tony immediately took the phone, "I'm here."
"Come to work at nine tomorrow morning."
"Beep... beep..."
After the call ended and the busy signal sounded, Tony looked at Drake with a puzzled expression.
"?"
"Why are you looking at me? He said for you to come to work, so that means he agreed."
"What about the location? The requirements? I don't even know what to wear."
"I'll take you there. The restaurant has uniforms for waiters. You do just what waiters usually do—greet customers, take orders, bring food, and wipe tables. Oh, and you have to carry a gun, whether you know how to use it or not. I'll give you mine."
Tony chuckled.
"By the way, do you have a wallet?"
"No, I'm used to just carrying my phone out when I go out—wait, I don't even have a phone!"
"I can give you my wallet, but not my phone. Camila doesn't talk to many people or go out much. I'll talk to her and ask her to give you her phone—do you at least have a SIM card?"
"No problem, I've got that."
Tony accepted everything Drake gave without hesitation because he damn well earned it.
Even without mentioning that Drake had basically given him a life, Tony handed over something worth $9,999 to restore his life.
The ten thousand dollars for a wallet, a phone, and a gun, plus a job as a waiter in Gotham, was a pretty good deal.
Drake didn't waste any time and went to find Camilla.
No one knew what they were doing in the room, but after Tonny laid out the bed on the floor, Drake took out a small phone and gave it to him.
That night, Drake and Camilla's room was surprisingly quiet, and Tony slept soundly on the sofa.
...
The next morning.
Drake got up early and woke Tony, who was still asleep.
"Let's go. I'll take you to your workplace."
Tony, still sleepy, looked at the clock in the living room and was confused, "Why are we getting up so early? It's only seven o'clock!"
"We don't have a car."
"Huh?"
After a moment, Tony, looking disappointed, hurriedly got up and put on his clothes.
Then Drake pulled him out the door. The two ran together until they reached a rusty metal pole nearby, full of holes and scratches.
"Drake, I get that you don't want me to be late, but shouldn't we at least eat breakfast first?"
"No time. We'll eat on the way. If we wait any longer, we might not make it on time."
Drake said this while putting a scarf around Tony's neck.
"Wow, how far is this place you want me to go?"
"Otisburg District. It's not close to the East End, but the route is pretty good. If we're lucky, it should take about half an hour."
After finishing the scarf, Drake took out a hat and placed it on Tony's head.
"Huh?"
Tony looked confused, "What do you mean by luck—"
"Screech"
The bus arrived, and the doors opened.
Tony's question stopped as Drake grabbed him and ran onto the bus, then quickly found a seat.
He sat down and was about to continue asking when suddenly a cold wind rushed past half his face.
The freezing air jolted him fully awake. He turned his head and realized all the bus windows were gone.
The cold air was howling in through the empty spaces where the windshield should have been, and almost everyone else had wrapped their heads tightly to keep warm.
"What's going on?"
Before he could recover, Tony saw Drake sitting nearby pull a gun out of his pocket and hold it in his hand.
"What are you doing?"
Drake didn't answer him but stood up and walked over to the bus driver to start talking.
"Damn it, you can't just shoot—"
Tony was about to pull Drake back, but then his eyes landed on Drake's seat, and suddenly, something felt off.
'Why were there holes in Drake's seat?'
He remembered wondering earlier why the bus had so many patches.
"Wait, are those—bullet holes?!"
He originally thought there might be a few thugs, some gangsters, prostitutes, or addicts on the bus, but you're telling me there's a gunfight inside the bus?
Suddenly, it seemed like Drake reached some kind of deal with the driver.
Drake opened his wallet, took out some bills, and handed them to the driver.
The driver smiled and then pulled out a handgun and several magazines from somewhere and handed them to Drake.
"Huh?"
Drake walked back proudly, holding the gun, and sat next to Tony.
Seeing Tony looked worried, Drake asked with concern, "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"
"What?! How can you even ask me that question? You've been living in Gotham for a year now, and you don't even remember what normal life is like?"
Tony had a thousand complaints but didn't know where to start. In the end, he just stared at the gun Drake was holding.
Drake saw how he looked at the gun and laughed a little shyly.
"I was originally going to give you my gun, but then I remembered that Old Jack seems to be having a clearance sale today, and I just went to ask. You're really lucky he still has a Glock 17 that hasn't been used much, with 9mm bullets and magazines included, all for just three hundred dollars."
"Wait, clearance sale? Glock 17? The driver's side job is being an arms dealer?"
"You don't have to worry, a lot of people in Gotham buy from him. However, it's hit-or-miss quality, and they're too light. Moreover, they're all used by the cops, and a lot of people sell Glock pistols they got from the police station, which sometimes causes trouble for everyone—but this one's definitely good. Old Jack wouldn't rip me off."
During the conversation, a lot of big guys with tattooed, muscular arms got on the bus.
Tony was a bit confused but took the gun. Drake thoughtfully put the remaining magazines into Tony's coat pocket.
He instinctively glanced at the driver again, only to see that now two or three people had already started lining up beside him.
The old man looked relaxed, gripping the steering wheel with one hand, occasionally turning his head to chat with people.
"Oh right, I haven't even asked yet."
Tony said, looking at the front windshield like it was just decoration, "Why doesn't the bus have any windows?"
A few people, who looked somewhat like gangsters, walked in from the door.
"There used to be glass, but it got broken more than ten times, and the owner of the operation didn't want to fix it anymore."
"More than ten times?"
"Ah, well, it's because this bus started from the East End, so every now and then, there's a little bit of gunfight."
"Wait, wait—"
Tony rubbed his forehead, thinking for a while, "Are you saying we live in the East End?"
There are some women dressed in bright, flashy clothes who got on the bus, laughing and joking.
Tony didn't read a lot of comics.
He wasn't like some hardcore Batman or DC fans who know everything about major events, characters, organizations, and places, but he did remember a little bit about the East End.
It's hard to earn a good reputation but very easy to become notorious, and Gotham's East End was exactly that kind of place.
Gotham is known as the crime capital of the world, a very dark and dangerous city full of crime and gangs.
The East End is widely recognized as the most notorious area inside Gotham City. This is the poorest part of Gotham. It's filled with poverty, crime, prostitution, drugs, and arms trafficking.
"Yeah, otherwise, where do you think I'd live? The Diamond District?"
"..."
"Screech—Bang!"
The bus driver slammed on the brakes really hard while driving fast.
Just as everyone was about to be thrown off balance, the bus crashed heavily into another bus, pulling into the lane from the side.
"Damn it! You f*ing idiot, can't you drive? You're driving this fast in the East End, you want to get to hell faster, you son of a b**?!"
"Idiot, if you call me that again, I'll shove the barrel of this gun up your a**! Get the f*** outta here!"
The bus driver on the opposite side was a middle-aged man.
After Old Jack started talking on the radio, the other driver responded just as loudly and fast.
The exchange between the two grew increasingly intense.
Their argument got hotter and hotter, but the street stayed surprisingly clear no traffic jams.
It was clear that Gotham's residents had developed strong driving skills and mental toughness in their daily lives.
Of course, they were also mentally prepared to abandon any sense of morality to prioritize survival.
After all, they had to survive.
"You son of a b***h!""
Old Jack got even more worked up as they argued louder and faster, with some spit even flying onto his beard.
"I'll show you how to settle things in Gotham!"
Then, he pulled a big black shotgun out from under his seat.
"Bang!"
"Whoa, it's really happening!"
Tony was filled with distress, trembling as he clutched the handgun in his arms.
Even though he only had it for a few minutes, Tony held it like this gun was one of his closest friends.
However, the people around him looked calm, many of them had already pulled out their own guns early on.
Even Drake patted Tony's shoulder and said, "It's okay. We'll get off the bus to find a safe place to hide in a bid. Old Jack will keep driving after he finishes shooting. You'll still make it to work on time."
Even Drake patted Tony's shoulder and said, "It's okay. We'll get off soon and find a safe place to hide. Old Jack will keep driving after he finishes shooting. You'll still make it to work on time."
'What?! What does "keep driving after he shoots" even mean?! This is the first time seeing a real gun in my life, and now there's a gunfight.'