Chapter 12: Old District

The dilapidated bus swayed as it rumbled along the road, cutting through traffic and the cold, thin fog of Gotham's East End, driving from the east side of the Upper City all the way to the west.

"Thank God, at least there wasn't a second shootout, and Old Jack wasn't hurt."

Drake and Ma Ma Zhaodi sat on the wind-riddled bus, traveling through the streets of Old District. Hearing Ma Ma Zhaodi mutter to himself, Ma Ma Zhaodi turned his head to look at him.

"There's actually a second one?"

"Depends. Usually not, but this is the East End—you know. Sometimes a second group boards halfway through. After all, this place always has moments of high pressure; it's normal for one bus not to be enough."

Not normal at all. Ma Ma Zhaodi silently complained.

"What about the bodies and blood left on the street?"

"They'll disappear in fifteen minutes. Gotham gang cleanup crews are professionals."

"Then what if the driver dies? What happens to the bus?"

"Drivers usually don't die. They're the atmosphere crew, you get me? It's like playing badminton or tennis; someone always has to serve the first ball. As for the reason—there are plenty of people who can shoot, but few willing to drive this kind of bus. So now, driver shootouts are just for show. Only when they're really unlucky do they get hit by stray bullets or ricochets."

Ma Ma Zhaodi's eyes lit up, and he suddenly felt tempted: "How's the bus driver's pay? Are you still hiring?"

Drake grinned at him: "Old Jack changed drivers three times last year. One had his neck pierced by shrapnel from a grenade, another was blinded by a ricochet, and the last one got his balls blown off when he tried to raise the price while selling guns. This position changes hands frequently; if you want it, you've got a chance."

Ma Ma Zhaodi's expression instantly became crystal clear, without a trace of impure thought.

"Old Jack is actually the name of the bus? The driver is truly just a tool, wait, wait, someone even brought grenades?"

"Usually no one brings them, and they aren't used in places like this because they're too expensive and not worth it—but you know, this is the East End; there are more crazies here than normal people."

After saying this, Drake subconsciously sighed, perhaps thinking of some past experiences living in the East End.

While the two were talking, the bus had already entered Old District. Seeing this, Drake hurriedly pulled Ma Ma Zhaodi off the bus.

"Follow me; the workplace isn't far from the bus." Drake glanced at the watch on his wrist: "We're really lucky; it's only 8:20 now, so at least you won't be late on your first day of work."

"You're right." Ma Ma Zhaodi silently browsed the System Shangcheng, looking for something to eat: "But I almost got my head blown off on my first commute to work, so my head might have a small objection to the adjective 'lucky'."

Compared to the chaotic, disorderly, filthy, and dilapidated, low-rise buildings of the East End, Old District looked much better.

Before the two of them lay an area filled with towering buildings and sparkling corporate skyscrapers; in the distance, some areas featured tall factories with long chimneys billowing thick black smoke; and even the somewhat old residential areas were at least clean and bright, giving the feeling of mere messiness rather than filth and poverty.

"Stop looking; there's nothing good over there." Drake's tone was somewhat mocking: "Once a top pharmaceutical company, it became a second-rate enterprise with a hollow shell after an accident. Who knows how long this building can stand in Gotham."

Ma Ma Zhaodi immediately caught his implied meaning: "Is that company Wayne Pharmaceuticals?"

"Wayne? No, certainly not. Why do you ask?" Drake looked at him with some confusion: "Although Young Wayne is a playboy and a prodigal son, he at least has some conscience."

"That company is the pharmaceutical firm that cooperated with Dr. Victor. Now that we are friends, I'm not afraid to tell you."

"I found some things during this time. Mr. Victor's disappearance wasn't a simple lab accident; it was because this company actively cut off his research project, specifically his wife's life-support system, which caused this accident."

Ma Ma Zhaodi nodded to indicate understanding. His knowledge of Victor, that is, Mr. Freeze's origin, wasn't very clear. In his impression, the one who should have provided help to Mr. Freeze was Wayne Pharmaceuticals, but it was also possible he remembered wrong, or this world itself existed in some multiverse he didn't know about.

Anyway, DC's multiverse settings plus the reboot universe settings keep changing back and forth. Let alone me, even the editors don't know what's in the unwritten universes; it's not impossible for there to be a Mr. Freeze with a slightly strange origin.

"As a person, do as much as your ability allows." He comforted himself: "What's the use of worrying about these things? You can't even use a gun right now; if you met a thug, he'd stab you to death."

He followed Drake walking down the streets of Old District. The daylight was already bright, yet the sunlight couldn't penetrate the thick dark clouds above Gotham; the sky was gray, and there wasn't much warmth on his body. Living in Gotham City, one always felt it might start raining at any moment.

Ma Ma Zhaodi glanced around, distinguishing the buildings within sight: Stagg Industries, the Ace Chemicals Plant in the distance, the Joker's Card Palace, and some colorful clubs.

It was just that he didn't remember the significance of these locations; otherwise, he would have definitely exclaimed on the spot, "Immortals, oh, immortals, stand in rows like hemp."

Of course, when he saw a towering Ferris wheel sticking out behind a building, some of his memories were somewhat awakened.

"Oh, The Killing Joke."

"What?"

"Nothing. Is that place an amusement park over there?"

Drake, rushing along, followed his gaze and also saw that Ferris wheel, sighing involuntarily.

"Yes. But it's abandoned. According to them, because of the murder of the Wayne couple, the theater there was also abandoned. After that, security got worse and worse; no one dared to bring children to play there anymore, so the amusement park fell into ruin."

Ma Ma Zhaodi thought to himself that it was good it was abandoned; when that amusement park is restarted in the future, someone will probably be unlucky.

Poor Commissioner Gordon poured his heart and soul into Gotham, only for his son to become a villain, his daughter to be seduced by a psychopath into becoming a leather-clad freak, and then to have her spine shot through by a madman and her nude photos taken.

If possible, Ma Ma Zhaodi really didn't want him to be tied to the Ferris wheel watching Barbara's photos.

Just as Ma Ma Zhaodi was still thinking, Drake stopped.

"Stop looking; we've arrived."

(End of Chapter)