Huh?

Drake was a complete novice when it came to robbery. Hearing gunshots over the phone, he remained unfazed. He asked into the receiver, "Donald, are you busy?"

The gruff male voice seemed patient. After hearing Drake's question, he replied unhurriedly, "Not busy now, I'm wrapping things up."

"Bang!" Another gunshot.

"It's like this, I have a friend who just arrived in Gotham. The skills he has are just normal person skills, completely useless in Gotham City."

"You want him to work for me?"

"Don't you have a restaurant? His face is perfect for attracting women to eat there. He's not good at fighting, but he's not too scared either. He's just a normal person, but he's quite eloquent and brave, he won't get stage fright."

"Eloquent means his mouth won't be tight-lipped."

"Bang!"

"Please, don't--"

"Bang!"

"I guarantee you, his mouth is absolutely tight-lipped—he's just a normal person, he wouldn't risk his life just to brag."

"Bang! Bang!"

Several more gunshots rang out from the other end of the phone. A moment later, the gruff male voice spoke again, "Drake, I owe you one, and we're even."

"Of course."

"Is that kid with you?"

Ma Zhaodi immediately took the phone, "I am."

"Come to work tomorrow morning at nine."

"Beep--Beep--"

Watching the phone hang up and listening to the dial tone, Ma Zhaodi looked at Drake, completely bewildered.

"?"

"What are you looking at me for? He said for you to go to work, so he agreed."

"Where? What are the requirements? I don't even know what to wear."

"I'll take you there, you just need to remember the way. The waiter's uniform is at the restaurant. As for what to do—it's what waiters usually do: greet guests, take orders, serve food, wipe tables, nothing else. Oh, right, you also have to carry a gun. Whether you know how to use it or not, you definitely have to bring it. I'll leave my old one for you."

Ma Zhaodi chuckled. Gotham, the trenches, the standard for going to work is a gun. Nothing else matters.

"By the way, do you have a wallet?"

"No, I'm used to only carrying my phone when I go out. Damn it, I don't even have a phone!"

"I can give you my wallet, but not my phone. However, Camilla rarely contacts anyone, and she doesn't socialize much. I'll talk to her and have her give you her phone—you have a phone card, right?"

"No problem, I have that."

Ma Zhaodi accepted Drake's gifts without hesitation because he felt he deserved them. Even setting aside the fact that he had given up a life, just based on asset value, he had already given away something worth $9,999 in life recovery.

Ten thousand dollars for a wallet, a phone, and a gun, plus a waiter job in Gotham. It really felt like he was overpaying.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but praise the System for its thoughtfulness. It provided several bank cards from common American banks and a phone card, which saved him a lot of trouble.

Drake didn't waste any time. He went to find Camilla first. He didn't know what they were doing being so lovey-dovey in the room until Ma Zhaodi had laid out his bedding on the floor. Then, Drake handed Ma Zhaodi a small phone.

That night, Drake and Camilla's room was surprisingly quiet. Ma Zhaodi slept soundly on the sofa.

The next morning.

Drake got up early and woke up the still-sleeping Ma Zhaodi.

"Let's go, I'll take you to work."

Ma Zhaodi, still groggy, looked at the clock in the living room. The hour and minute hands both pointed to the number seven, which confused him. "Why are we getting up so early? It's only seven o'clock."

"We don't have a car."

"Huh?"

A moment later, a disappointed Ma Zhaodi hurriedly got up and put on his clothes, then was dragged out the door by Drake. The two of them ran all the way to a scarred, hole-ridden iron pole not far away.

"Drake, while I understand you don't want me to be late, we should at least have breakfast first."

"No time, we'll eat on the way. If we're any later, we might miss it."

Drake explained as he put a scarf around Ma Zhaodi's neck.

"Good heavens, how far is this place you introduced me to?"

"Audisburg District. It's not too far from the East End, and the route is decent. If we're lucky, it'll take about half an hour."

After finishing with the scarf, Drake took out a hat and placed it on Ma Zhaodi's head.

"Huh?"

Ma Zhaodi looked bewildered. "What do you mean 'if we're lucky'—"

"Screech"

A bus arrived and the doors opened. Ma Zhaodi's question was cut off. Drake pulled him onto the bus and they found seats.

Ma Zhaodi plopped down in his chair. Just as he was about to ask another question, he felt a rush of wind across half his face. The icy air instantly sobered him up. He turned his head and saw that all the windows of the bus were gone. Cold air howled into the bus from the empty space where the windshield should have been, and the people around him were mostly wrapped up tightly.

"What the...?"

Before he could even process what was happening, he saw Drake, sitting beside him, pull a gun from his pocket and hold it.

"What are you doing?"

Drake didn't answer. Instead, he stood up and walked over to the bus driver, striking up a conversation.

"Holy crap, you can't disturb him—"

Ma Zhaodi was about to pull Drake back when his gaze fell on Drake's seat. He suddenly noticed something was wrong. Why was there a hole in Drake's seat?

He had wanted to ask earlier when he got on the bus: why were there so many welded sections on the bus body? Small patches of sheet metal were welded all over the car, looking like a beggar's quilt sewn from scraps of cloth.

"Wait a minute, are those bullet holes?"

He had expected there might be a few thugs, some gangsters, or maybe a few prostitutes and junkies inside. Now they were telling him there was a gunfight in the bus?

Maybe I should just get off and walk to work. Maybe that would be safer?

Just then, Drake seemed to have reached some kind of agreement with the driver. He opened his wallet, took out a few colorful bills, and handed them to the driver. The driver grinned at him, then produced a handgun and several magazines from somewhere and gave them to Drake.

"Huh?"

Drake walked back, holding the pistol as if seeking praise, and sat down next to Ma Zhaodi. Seeing that his mood seemed unstable, Drake asked with concern, "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"