Chen Mo lay on the cold, damp ground of an alley, smelling a mixture of dumpsters, rainwater, exhaust fumes, and pizza boxes.
Not Gotham.
Gotham's alleys smelled heavier, like a stock of rust, mold, sewage, gun oil, and some kind of institutional rot left to stew for thirty years.
This place stank too.
But it stank in a very... modern way.
Chen Mo opened his eyes and looked at the sliver of sky wedged between two buildings overhead.
Blue skies, white clouds, and just the right amount of sunshine.
Ah!
Gotham's skies were as gray as if God owed a loan shark money, and its air pollution index was seriously over the limit.
And these blue skies and white clouds? One look told him this place had one of the largest urban parks in the world.
Chen Mo fell silent for three seconds.
Then he pushed himself up into a sitting position and spoke calmly to the empty alley:
"System, come out for a bit. Let's trade insults."
No response.
Chen Mo felt his chest.
His tight-fitting suit was still on underneath.
That was life when you were broke. No Batcave, no aircraft, no private changing room, and certainly no high-end armor that popped out of the wall at the push of a button.
All he had was a red-and-blue bodysuit washed so often it was nearly faded.
So if he wanted to cosplay a superhero and save the world anytime, anywhere, he had to wear the suit underneath.
With ordinary clothes over it.
If something went wrong, he could change at any moment!
Sitting beside the dumpster, Chen Mo looked at his old jacket, then at the mouth of the alley.
An unfamiliar city.
Unfamiliar air.
Unfamiliar streets.
A familiar alley, a familiar dumpster.
Chen Mo slowly drew a