Sudden Disaster

Shooting practice? What a load of crap.

Though Ma Zhaodi wanted to say just that, his current marksmanship was indeed not quite up to par.

If he hadn't bought Elementary Firearm Proficiency, that shot at the chandelier might have gone astray and hit the supervisor.

The Old Gotham Black Flag members honed their skills through decades of gunfights. While catching up in just a few weekends was unlikely, he still had to learn the basics; this kind of thing was built up over time.

Of course, it wasn't like there weren't faster ways.

Ma Zhaodi clicked open the System Mall, looked at the Intermediate Firearm Proficiency costing $5,000, and then quietly backed out.

"Actually, come to think of it, taking shortcuts isn't my style."

In the evening, Ma Zhaodi was driving his beloved car down the street. The restaurant supervisor was a bit of a jerk, giving him a shooting range address in the Burnley District. This meant he had to drive quite a distance, specifically from the East End to the Burnley District to practice shooting.

While it was the central area of Gotham, its prosperity and tidiness were indeed pleasing to the eye. Many entertainment facilities and high-end clubs were located here, but these things were meaningless to Ma Zhaodi.

He was a broke guy himself. His $50,000 wouldn't even make a splash in a place like this; it wasn't enough for anything. No matter how high-class or luxurious the entertainment was, it had nothing to do with him – he could see it but couldn't touch it.

"That supervisor dog must earn a lot," he grumbled indignantly. "I should have just pissed him off to death back then; at least it would have been eliminating a menace."

However, his name did have some use. The shooting range did give him a 30% discount, so the fees weren't expensive, only a few dozen dollars a day. For the ultimate value, he'd been playing there all along. He only went home after practicing until dark.

"The car's been refurbished quite well, and it's pretty comfortable to drive, but Beginner Car Driving Mastery only lets me control the car at 100 km/h. Driving home for half an hour feels terrible."

"Hey! Watch it! Broke boy!"

Just as Ma Zhaodi slowed down and was carefully driving over a roadside ditch, a man in a trench coat, walking arm-in-arm with a woman on the sidewalk, suddenly frowned and yelled at him, "Don't splash my clothes and shoes!"

Ma Zhaodi turned his head to look. The man's brown trench coat seemed to be made of fine material. The crisp suit underneath and the shiny belt at his waist were high-end brands, and the expensive leather shoes on his feet also looked valuable. He had slowed down a bit late, and it seemed a few mud spots had indeed splashed near his shoes.

Should I apologize then?

"Idiot."

Ma Zhaodi said concisely, gave him the middle finger with his left hand, and immediately stepped on the car's accelerator. The engine's roar made the man instinctively shield the blonde woman next to him and quickly dodge aside. The two narrowly avoided being splashed by the water kicked up by the tires.

"It must be some broke boy from the East End," he cursed indignantly, turning to comfort the lady beside him. "Honey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," the blonde woman nestled in his arms. "Richard, what were you about to say?"

The man stroked her hair and continued with what he was about to say. "Oh, I was thinking, we could leave Gotham for a while and find a small place in Paris – what do you think?"

The woman's eyes immediately filled with surprise and joy. "Really? Paris in the autumn, I can't even imagine how romantic it will be!"

"Richard!"

Ma Zhaodi heard someone call a name from behind him. He was a bit jumpy now and actually thought about it carefully. After confirming that the name didn't seem to be an important figure in his memory, he confidently focused his attention back on the road.

"Richard Daniel!"

The man turned back with some confusion. "What is it, who..."

"Dada dada—"

"Holy crap, gunfight again!"

Ma Zhaodi felt like he was about to crack. He was sent here to practice shooting precisely because of gunfights, but the coach never mentioned that there would be practical consolidation exercises on the way home after practice.

He floored the accelerator as if escaping, and from the rearview mirror, he watched the scene behind him from afar: the muzzle of a submachine gun extending from a black car spat flames. A string of bullets turned the man, whose face was full of shock and unwillingness, into a bloody mess within seconds. Then, the black car sped away, disappearing at the end of the Burnley District street.

"So, like I said, bad people always get what's coming to them," Ma Zhaodi shook his head. "Be more careful in your next life, don't be so foul-mouthed."

There was no point in trying to save him from this kind of injury. Even if Ma Zhaodi had enough assets right now and was willing to get out of the car quickly to treat him, it was likely already too late. Those dozen seconds of running would probably be more than enough time for the person to be stone-cold dead.

Richard's blonde companion was not hit by the bullets. She was now sobbing uncontrollably, holding his blood-stained body on the ground. He hadn't expected them to be a real couple, and this woman seemed to genuinely like Richard.

But unfortunately, bullets only obeyed physics. Bulletproof vests could stop bullets, but love couldn't.

Ma Zhaodi drove back to Drake's house. Although the idiot who angered him had met a violent end, he wasn't in a particularly good mood. Partly because of the poor blonde girl, and partly because the man didn't deserve to die.

But neither of these was the most upsetting thing. What bothered him the most was how coincidental it was that he had just had a brief argument and conflict with the man for a dozen seconds, only for him to be shot dead.

Tomorrow, the Gotham Police Department would inevitably launch an investigation, and Ma Zhaodi would definitely be dragged to the police station to give a statement. All because of a ten-second argument, his entire weekend was gone.

The only silver lining was that tomorrow wasn't a workday. Otherwise, if he had to take a day off work for giving a statement, Ma Zhaodi would truly be heartbroken over those few hundred asset points.

"Ah, even after transmigrating, I can't escape the fate of a wage slave. This damn world, this damn Gotham..."

He listlessly opened the door, silently sat at the table, and began to enjoy his dinner, pondering how many people Batman would hang on the statue tonight.

"What's wrong, man?" Drake, who hadn't entered the house yet, asked subconsciously when he saw his strange expression.

"Nothing, just ran into a gunfight on the way back."

"You're okay?"

"Hey, what kind of question is that?" Ma Zhaodi rolled his eyes. "How many gunfights are chasing after me? I've only been in Gotham for a few days, who could I have offended? Only one unlucky guy named Richard Daniel died at the scene, no one else."

"Hmm?" Drake's expression turned serious. "Who died?"

"Richard Daniel, why?"

"Holy crap, the president of Gotham Bank was assassinated right after resigning!"

"Huh?"

Reading a bit of the comic, catching up on the plot, updates will be slow, please forgive me.