What the Hell Kind of Move Is This?!

"Why the hell did nobody tell me that transmigrators could worry about money too?!"

Lynn ran a hand through his hair. "Wasn't it always something like, make some money, come up with an idea, get some family or whatever? Why the hell can't I even afford to eat now?!"

He suddenly missed his days in Arkham. At least they provided food and lodging there!

"Finding a place to live is easy enough. It's everything else..."

Calling it taking over a magpie's nest would be giving Nathan too much credit, but to be fair, the house he had bought was pretty nice. The decorating style was just a little too nouveau riche, as if he wanted to put everything on display for people to see.

Lynn searched the "new house" for ages and found plenty of liquor, but that stuff did not fill his stomach.

"Who said these people liked cash? I only found a little over two grand in cash in the whole house. Why the hell did he hoard so many gold watches? Did he have octopus blood or something?!"

Nathan must have been someone always ready to run. Lynn found the poorly hidden safe Nathan had stashed behind a painting above the bed.

Lynn was not cut out for delicate work, so he forced it open. The chain hammer really was useful.

There was a huge pile of messy documents, all kinds of property deeds, over two thousand dollars in cash, and then a whole lot of gold watches.

"You don't look like much of an intellectual, and these are all... Oh ho! You're a traitor too!"

Lynn gave the documents a rough look. How should he put it? No wonder Nathan had hidden so many gold watches. The guy really had been ready to run at any moment, because although he was clearly one of Gotham big shot Falcone's lackeys, he also had some shady connections with another big shot.

"Looks like he climbed so fast for more than just being ruthless."

You needed methods too, even if they were only the methods of a low-level thug.

Fine. The cash was not much, but Lynn had only wanted to solve the problem of getting something to eat. That would not cost much.

As for the future, now that he had a hammer, was he afraid he would not find nails to hit?

"Beautiful Gotham, here I come~!"

Lynn felt a little excited. He had been somewhat unwilling when he first arrived, but wasn't it common sense that transmigrators did not regret the outcome? This was Gotham!

"I've always been interested in Catwoman... No, in Gotham's people and events!"

He took Nathan's money, wore Nathan's watch and suit, and even used Nathan's hair gel. He did not feel the slightest bit bad about it. He used it all lavishly!

"Time to head out!"

Ding-dong~

Things were always like this. When you had nothing to do, time seemed to stagnate endlessly, and space became fixed and unchanging. But the moment you wanted to do something, all kinds of things came flooding in at once.

It was like how nobody would contact you all day while you held your phone, but the moment you put it down to wash your hands, you would definitely miss an important call.

"Someone's looking for me? Looking for Nathan? Did the neighbors call the cops? Is it a delivery guy?"

At the door, Lynn put on a warm, peaceful smile, one filled with contentment and serenity, then opened it.

"Merry Christmas. Are you looking for... Holy shit!"

Lynn did not know whether it was Christmas or Christmas Eve when kids played trick-or-treat, but the uniform group of men in suits and sunglasses standing outside his door were obviously not there to play games with him.

"Uh... Do insurance salesmen travel in groups now?"

Keeping up his habit of acting like he would never die no matter how recklessly he courted death, Lynn curiously asked.

Nobody laughed. They did not even bother changing their expressions. Two men walked past Lynn into the house, while another two came up on either side of him, grabbed him, and marched him toward a black van.

"Don't! No! I-I haven't brushed my teeth yet, and I left my TV on! Isn't this about insurance? I'll buy it, okay?!

"Help~~! I'm not going to Big Bird Go-Go Bar! You've got the wrong guy!"

Maybe Lynn's noise was just a bit too much... Anyway, the leader clearly had never met someone like Lynn before. His expression management visibly failed, and the crease between his brows was deep enough to crush a fly.

"Vigo, there's nothing."

The men who had gone inside came back out. They murmured a few words to Vigo, whose frown still had not eased, then one pointed inside and said, "The safe was opened. There's nothing in it."

Vigo's expression changed. Even through his sunglasses, the gloom on his face was obvious.

He glanced toward the van and said quietly, "We're leaving. We have to get to the bottom of Nathan's situation today."

Lynn actually quieted down after getting into the vehicle and stopped talking.

Sitting in the middle seat in the back, with a poker-faced man in sunglasses on either side of him, Lynn calmly crossed his legs, rested both hands on his knees, and lifted his chin. His slicked-back hair made him look composed and steady.

Other than using a little too much hair gel, which was a minor flaw, he looked exactly like some big shot riding in his own car to a party.

As for the men in sunglasses on either side of him, they were naturally his bodyguards.

Of course, the van did not take them anywhere that held parties. After twisting and turning through the streets, it stopped at a fairly large meatpacking plant.

Lynn, who was "invited" out of the vehicle, naturally carried himself with great dignity. He was dignified when his hands were tied, and equally dignified when he was hoisted up by a huge iron hook used to hang beef.

"Friend, no matter what connections you think you have, this is Falcone's territory. I hope you'll wipe that annoying expression off your face, then answer what you're asked and say what you're told. Understand, kid?"

Vigo looked up at the suspended Lynn. Behind him, several underlings were arranging a pile of miscellaneous tools on a workbench used to butcher beef.

"Doesn't look like you're fixing furniture. An ice pick? You guys use those things too? How do you use them?"

Lynn looked like a fearless fool, the sort who had clearly never suffered a beating from the mob.

"Heh heh."

Vigo could not be bothered wasting words on him. He turned to pick up a tool. He had seen plenty of people like this. The dividing line between tough guys and cowards appeared only at the instant a blade touched skin.

Bang.

Something heavy hit the floor.

One of Vigo's eyebrows rose as he turned back in surprise and saw Lynn standing on the ground.

"How did you..."

"You mean this?"

Lynn shook the chain in his hand. "Oh, I studied under Master Pot Steel. Give me a pack of instant noodles, and I can get in and out of any bank."

Originally, Lynn had planned to come over and see the world a little. It was Christmas, after all. He had to find some fun.

If he got lucky and met that Falcone guy right here, wouldn't that be interesting?

But these bastards had actually dragged him to a slaughterhouse. The little scissors in that guy's hand looked more and more like pig-castrating shears, and Lynn felt rather disrespected.

"You...!"

"Vigo! Outside... outside... He's here!"

Vigo tossed aside the little scissors and had just reached for the back of his waist when one of his underlings rushed in from outside. The man was so panicked that his words barely made sense.

Him?!

Him!

That damn bat was here!

"You guys go and—"

"Help~~! Somebody~~!"

Vigo was interrupted again, this time from behind him.

When he turned around, that kid who had just unlocked himself and stood on the floor...

How had he hung himself back up again?!

What the hell kind of move was this?!