The Cat

"Bang!"

"You punk! Do you know how to talk in Gotham now?!"

"Bang! Bang!"

"Old man, you're not the only one with a gun in Gotham!"

Seeing the two bus drivers draw their guns and start shooting without a word, the passengers in both buses nimbly climbed out of the windows, skillfully finding safe positions. The unlucky ones hit by stray bullets found cover and joined the fray, while those unharmed quietly waited for the gunfight to end. The entire process was smooth and orderly, chaotic yet structured. The passengers' reactions couldn't be called well-trained, but at least they were practiced.

Amidst the orderly daily life of Gotham City's East End, Ma Zhaodi couldn't help but shed tears of emotion at the lively atmosphere: "Drake, you scumbag, if you want me dead, just say so. No need to be so roundabout."

"This bus is the fastest and safest one we can get in the East End," Drake shook his head. "On other buses, you'll either be forced to the back by gun-wielding cars in traffic jams, or have your wallet stolen on the bus, or worse—in Gotham, people get raped on buses every week, or simply disappear after getting off."

While Drake was rambling, a stray bullet pierced the concrete corner next to Ma Zhaodi, making his already anxious heart even more so: "Is there no chance I could get my head blown off by a stray bullet in this situation?!"

"Trust me," Drake gave him a smug smile. "This bus is different. Most of the people on it are here for revenge. Every wrong has its source, and every debt has its owner. Gotham often has people who have grudges but find it inconvenient or undesirable to resolve them according to the rules. In such cases, many of them will arrange a meeting."

"Maybe you stole a customer from me, or I sold you a fake product, or we just bumped shoulders on the road. It doesn't matter. We all know that these aren't the real reasons we draw our guns, but we just can't stand it anymore."

"Regardless, anything you find inconvenient to do yourself, you can settle here—a bus full of desperate people with cheap weapons readily available. We have nothing, only the lives we've scraped together and a pile of troublesome issues. You and I draw our guns, and we'll settle this, both in skill and in life and death. The one who dies will have their body unceremoniously dumped into the sea, ending everything. The one who lives will have their anger vented and will honestly go back to their dog-like lives."

"So unless some lunatic takes a dislike to us and decides to chase us, we, as mere passengers, will hardly encounter any trouble. This corner is a spot I carefully selected. Good visibility, hidden location, moderate distance. I can peek at the show and avoid others' attention, and after the fight, I can chase after the bus immediately."

"I've been hiding here for a full six months. The most serious injury I sustained was spraining my ankle because I ran too fast."

Listening to his explanation, Ma Zhaodi couldn't help but feel a sense of awe. Drake truly had been in Gotham for a year; he already had a bit of the seasoned Gothamite's demeanor. Look at his mind, hey, look at his attitude, hey, look at his adaptability.

"Bang!" A bullet hit the ground by Ma Zhaodi's feet, interrupting his thoughts.

"You punk over there, I've had my eye on you for a long time! Been riding the bus for half a year, watching our duels for fun? Got the guts to show your face! I'll kill you today, you son of a bitch!"

"?"

Ma Zhaodi looked at Drake, then listened to the curses from afar, and suddenly didn't feel like recognizing this friend anymore.

"This is what you call safe?"

"How was I supposed to know there'd be a lunatic who survived on this bus for half a year! And he's specifically taking the bus to target me! I was so low-key..."

"Bang! Bang!"

Seeing two more bullets fly over, Ma Zhaodi's heart was about to leap out of his throat.

"Stop the crap! Think of a way!"

Drake looked around. This spot was good in every way, except for the lack of escape routes. To slip out and reach other streets, he would have to expose his body to the opponent's firing range for about three to four seconds.

When faced with the threat of death, Drake seemed to become exceptionally calm. He repeatedly planned escape routes in his mind, potential scenarios, and the optimal posture and evasive maneuvers. At this moment, he was like John Wick possessed in a movie, or Hitman 47 in a game—no emotion, only logic.

"Don't be afraid, I'll get you out of here."

He analyzed with composure, as if he wasn't being chased in the gun-filled streets of Gotham, but was casually chatting on the bustling streets of Metropolis.

He quickly mapped out an escape route in his mind, seemingly seeing himself agilely rolling behind the car, getting up, and using the car's sturdy engine to block nine-millimeter bullets. In the gaps between the opponent's shots, he would sprint and leap into the back of a dumpster, using the visual cover to rush forward, quickly smashing open the door of the bookstore opposite, lightly leaping out of the second-floor window of the bookstore, rolling to a landing, and disappearing from the opponent's sight.

Even though he fired several bullets in anger, they could only graze past his cold face, unable to harm him in the slightest.

"Watch my move."

A confident smile curled his lips. He gently took off a shoe and flashed its tip at the corner of the wall like lightning.

"Bang bang!"

Seeing his leather shoe with two new holes, he calmly put it back on.

One second passed.

"Cowardly piece of shit! Come out!"

"Bang!"

Two seconds passed.

"Hahaha, scaredy-cat who won't show his face! Wanna see whose gun is tougher!"

"Bang! Bang!"

Three seconds—

"What are you doing? Move!" Ma Zhaodi looked at Drake in confusion. "Didn't you say you had a plan?"

"I think it's safer to hide here," Drake showed an awkward yet polite smile. "His marksmanship is a bit beyond my expectations. If we had followed the plan, we might have gotten a few more holes in us the first second we stepped out."

"."

I'm so stupid, so stupid, Ma Zhaodi raised his lifeless eyes and thought: I only knew Drake had lived in Gotham for a year, could find me a reliable way, help me find a job, and then go to work alive; I didn't know how ridiculous he was, and how much he attracted hatred.

"Didn't you ever consider that someone who could survive on this kind of bus for a full six months would have poor marksmanship?"

"Stop arguing, think of something! You're a Gotham native! You have Gotham residency!"

"I've never even met my parents!"

As the two argued, Ma Zhaodi suddenly caught sight of someone standing on the rooftop nearby. A graceful figure in black was looking at them, a cat-like smile on her lips.