Chapter 11: Damn It, See You Again

Ma Ma Zhaodi looked at Drake, his eyes holding four parts shock, three parts despair, two parts contempt, and one part admiration.

"Are you even human?"

"If we die, we die together."

"How did I not see before that you were so—"

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

"Fuck your mother's cunt, I'm going to skin you alive! I'll chop off your dicks and stuff them up your asses to use as dildos! You bastards! Just you two wait to die! If I don't fuck you two to death today, I'll put a bullet in my own forehead!"

The bullets originally fired at the wall corner for suppressive fire suddenly became as dense as firecrackers; the man's curses echoed through the street, his word choice and tone indicating he was probably a bit angrier than before.

"See, he's panicked."

Drake shook his head: "What I hate most about Gotham is this sort of thing; the citizens' emotions are too unstable, their tempers a bit short, and when something happens, they don't want to talk it out properly."

"Good, good, good; if you can talk, talk more, preferably maintain this style until you die."

The two bickered, yet in their hearts they prayed the other would get hit by a passing dump truck or crushed by airplane wreckage falling from the sky.

Or they could try shooting back to kill, after all, there was only one opponent while there were two of them.

Ma Ma Zhaodi looked at the Glock pistol in his hand, having searched for ages for the safety catch, and sighed inwardly that they weren't close; then he looked toward the rooftop of the building nearby, where the cat-like figure had already vanished, and sighed again that they weren't close either, thinking to himself that this save-file opportunity would have to be used once.

Drake suddenly spoke up, "Eh, why has the sound stopped?"

That's right, why had both the man's gunfire and his cursing stopped?

Two extremely different possibilities immediately leaped into Ma Ma Zhaodi's mind: one was extreme luck, and the other was extreme misfortune.

His heart suddenly began to pound wildly; in this silent atmosphere, he stared fixedly at the wall corner and subconsciously swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

The next moment, a burly man with a sinister grin suddenly flashed out from there, the dark muzzle of the gun in his hand aimed directly at the two of them.

"Bang! Bang!"

Before Ma Ma Zhaodi had time to pull the trigger, the man had already instantly fired two shots; Ma Ma Zhaodi only felt a numbness in his hand as the Glock was knocked flying by the bullet, and along with it fell to the ground the black pistol in Drake's hand.

"We're done for!"

"Bang!"

A scorching blast wave erupted; a high-speed bullet exiting the barrel pierced the air, grazing Ma Ma Zhaodi's temple and plowing a gap into his black buzzcut.

He subconsciously closed his eyes, but the next bullet did not arrive as expected; only the sound of gunfire around the bus and the thud of a heavy object hitting the ground rang out.

Could it be that Drake had killed him in return?

He opened his eyes in confusion and indeed found the armed burly man lying on the ground, yet Drake was also looking at him blankly, as if wanting to confirm whether he himself had killed the burly man.

The two exchanged glances; Ma Ma Zhaodi could only crouch down and gently turn the man's body over, discovering there were no wounds on him and that he still had breath and a heartbeat.

"He's not dead, just unconscious."

"Why did this person faint?"

"Don't know; maybe he was angered into fainting by a dog."

Although he said this aloud, Ma Ma Zhaodi already had a vague suspicion in his heart.

Although in this world, it was indeed safer the farther one stayed from superheroes, today they had still been saved by one, so this favor was now owed.

This ability and style of knocking out an armed, burly man within a few seconds and then leaving silently was very typical of Catwoman's methods.

"Don't just stand there; take all the guns and bullets off him, then tie him up tight."

Drake's combat ability wasn't much, but his reactions were fast; it seemed he had indeed learned a thing or two in Gotham over the past year. While calling out to Ma Ma Zhaodi, he quickly searched the man's belongings. As a result, the two found a Beretta, a Colt revolver, and adding the Colt M2000 in the man's hand, that made three guns total, plus two magazines and two bags of bullets in his pockets; anyone unaware might think this guy was some famous gang enforcer.

"Are you sure he isn't someone from a certain gang?" Ma Ma Zhaodi asked while tying up the man: "I really don't want to be called in tomorrow by some mafia don to 'have a little chat' or something like that."

"From what I recall, he's joined quite a few gangs, but never stayed long. Look, the gang tattoos on his body seem to have been washed away; the remaining tattoos mean nothing. I guess even the gang bosses couldn't stand his violent temper."

"You've been riding this bus for half a year; didn't you notice this guy wanted to do you in?"

"One of the most important reasons I've survived riding this bus for half a year is precisely that I don't look around recklessly or ask random questions; besides, this bastard always looks at everyone as if he's about to attack—how was I supposed to know he actually had his sights set on me?"

While speaking, Drake took out the man's wallet, then hesitated for a moment.

"Honestly, I'm a bit reluctant to let him go alive."

Ma Ma Zhaodi looked at this burly man, feeling somewhat conflicted in his heart as well; although killing and robbing was wrong, this person had indeed nearly taken one of his lives.

He thought carefully for a moment, then turned his head to look at Drake.

"Does he know where you live?"

Drake paused, then his expression turned strange.

"He seems to have never appeared near my home before."

"But if he wanted to investigate, he could have found out long ago?"

"Right."

Hearing this, Ma Ma Zhaodi put the gun in his hand away.

"Since the person who saved us didn't kill him, then let's follow her intention—put the wallet back too; this money is useful to us, but not by much."

Drake looked at Ma Ma Zhaodi with some surprise; at this moment, he suddenly felt that even without his help, this new friend of his might adapt to the city of Gotham very quickly.

Of course, Gotham's way of doing things wasn't necessarily right; letting him go today could very well result in being shot dead by him with a sneak attack another day.

"You decide." He casually stuffed the wallet back: "But I'm definitely not riding this bus tomorrow; I'm no cowboy from the Wild West."

Ma Ma Zhaodi shrugged; after all, Drake didn't have a save point and couldn't restart, so he could completely understand.

"I think he looks quite like a cowboy—what's this guy's name?"

"Banner, Clinton Banner."

"Good name; as long as it's not Bruce or Freud, it's fine."

"Bang!"

A gunshot rang out from the street, followed by an old man's vigorous shout: "Old Jack is departing! Everyone get on the bus!"

Ma Ma Zhaodi looked at Banner, who was tied up with his hands behind his back and leaning against the wall corner; he still showed no signs of waking up.

So he casually shoved the revolver and bullets back into the man's hands and put the hat back on him.

"See you in hell, you crazy cowboy."

Saying this, he and Drake ran toward Old Jack's bullet-riddled bus.

Behind the two, Banner opened his eyes and easily broke free from the coat they had temporarily used as a rope. Clearly, Ma Ma Zhaodi's knot-tying skills were not very proficient.

He raised the revolver and aimed it at Ma Ma Zhaodi's back.

However, the trigger was never pulled.

"Bang." He mimicked the sound of a gunshot with his mouth, then holstered the gun and turned to leave.

"See you next time, bastard."

(End of this chapter)