Good evening, Gotham

Midnight. Gotham. An alley.

"I think Gotham's welcoming ceremony is a little too ahead of its time. At least, I can't handle it."

"Cut the fucking crap and stay against the wall!"

Deep in the alley, Zuo Ci stood pressed against the wall with both hands raised, while a guy whose face he couldn't make out rummaged through his pockets behind him.

As a fresh graduate about to become a corporate workhorse, Zuo Ci had only gone out to buy a late-night snack. But some asshole had stolen a manhole cover, and he had accidentally fallen into the sewer.

Sigh. They'd already switched to those worthless plastic substitutes, so why were people still stealing them?

In short, when he opened his eyes again, he had arrived here, in this city of darkness called Gotham.

Honestly, though, Zuo Ci would rather believe the fall had knocked him into a hallucination than that he had transmigrated. Not everyone could handle being robbed at gunpoint less than five minutes after arriving in another world.

"Fucking broke-ass. Not a single cent. Ptooey."

As an upstanding citizen of Gotham City, Jack considered himself far more accomplished than his fellow gang members. He was particularly proud of his eyes, with their prescription of over minus sixteen diopters.

He wasn't bragging: one glance was all he needed to tell whether someone was a penniless bum or a fat mark.

Thanks to that skill, he had committed over eight hundred robberies in a year without a single failure. Yet today, this damned Asian guy had ruined his streak.

Fuck, why would someone wear Adidas from head to toe and not have a single cent? Was he screwing with me?

"Look, rob me if you want, but could you show a little basic decency? What's my being broke got to do with you?"

Zuo Ci was already pissed about being transported into this shithole of a world. Being robbed made him even more pissed. And now, on top of the robbery, he was getting insulted? That was taking the bullying a little too far.

"Fuck, you've got the nerve to talk back? I... huh?"

Coming away without a single cent was frustrating enough. Now this guy actually dared to talk back. Jack's temper flared, and he prepared to give him a proper lesson in Gotham hospitality.

But just then, his bat-sharp vision keenly picked out another little pocket on the chest of Zuo Ci's jacket, bulging with something inside.

"Aha! I knew my eyes couldn't be wrong. Turn around!"

After grabbing Zuo Ci and turning him around, hands still raised, Jack reached for his pocket.

"Uh, you're being pretty rude, but I'd still like to warn you. You really shouldn't reach into that pocket. You definitely won't like what's inside..."

"Enough of your bullshit. Shut up!"

Jack irritably pressed his gun against Zuo Ci's forehead. Although Zuo Ci still wanted to give him another warning or two, he obligingly shut his mouth.

"Now, let's see what nice little goodies you've got in... Aaaah!!!"

The instant he reached inside, Jack felt an immense force clamp down on his fingers. He could even vaguely hear what sounded like bones cracking.

"Aaaah!!! You motherfucker!!!"

Wailing, Jack yanked his hand out and found something shaped like a toy mouse clamped viciously onto his index and middle fingers. Both fingers instantly swelled up like carrots.

What the fuck? Who puts a trap in their own pocket?!

"I told you, you definitely wouldn't like it."

Looking at Jack's miserable state, Zuo Ci pursed his lips innocently. He had been kind enough to warn him. If Jack wouldn't listen, who else could he blame?

"Motherfucker, I'll kill you!"

Trembling all over from the pain, Jack saw the look on Zuo Ci's face and could no longer suppress his rage. He raised his gun and aimed it at the bastard.

"Hold off on that for a second. There's something else I should warn you about. I actually made that thing out of a mousetrap and a stun device, so..."

At those words, Jack froze briefly.

"Aieeeeeeeee!!!"

Zuo Ci felt as though he had stepped into a breakdancing club for seniors. Jack's electrically induced, sultry dance moves would surely have charmed a whole crowd of old ladies. Even the multicolored light coming off his body was every bit as good as decorative lighting.

"You're in pretty bad shape, and torturing people isn't a hobby of mine, but this is still a prototype. I haven't gotten around to making a remote yet, so you'll have to wait five minutes for its battery to die before you're free.

"Nothing serious should happen. Yeah, probably."

Zuo Ci kindly offered another warning, but considering that Jack might not be able to hear him, he didn't waste any more breath. Instead, he turned his attention to his system interface.

That was right. Like most transmigrators, he had come with a system of his own. He simply hadn't had time to check it because he had been busy getting robbed.

[Novelty Goods System activated. Dedicated to serving you.]

As its name suggested, the main function of Zuo Ci's system was to sell novelty goods. With enough assets, he could buy anything, even abstract concepts.

The assets it accepted included not only money and resources from the local world, but also points awarded for completing commissions. Those points had far greater purchasing power than ordinary resources.

"It's called the Novelty Goods System, but it looks seriously powerful. Those prices, though..."

After skimming the dazzling array of merchandise and the astronomical prices beneath them, Zuo Ci sucked air through his teeth.

Even the cheapest item cost at least a thousand dollars, and just as Jack had said, Zuo Ci didn't have a single cent to his name.

"Wait. I don't have money, but that doesn't mean other people don't."

At that thought, Zuo Ci glanced back at Jack, who was still spinning and jumping without a break.

"Sorry about this, buddy."

Batman had now been active as the Dark Knight for a year.

Over that year, he had faced vicious thugs, gangs in force, mentally unstable supervillains, and even terrifying monsters that should only have existed in stories.

After rigorous training and extensive field experience, Batman believed nothing could surprise him anymore, and that he could remain composed in any situation.

But tonight, he realized he had been wrong. Spectacularly wrong.

"Master Bruce, are you all right?"

Hearing Alfred's question through his earpiece, Batman opened his mouth, then hesitated. Looking at the naked white man on the ground, blackened from head to toe, and the black man connected to him in some indescribable fashion, still howling from the residual current, he genuinely had no idea what to say.

He even wondered whether the Joker had escaped from Arkham again.

But Batman was still Batman. Within just a few seconds, he regained his composure.

"There's a third person's footprints on the ground, Alfred."

"Understood. I'll complete the footprint comparison as quickly as possible, Master Bruce."