[3rd POV]
The old, broken bus shook as it drove down the road.
It moved through the traffic and the thin, cold fog in the east part of Gotham, going all the way from the east side of the Upper City to the west side.
"Thank God, at least there wasn't a second shootout, and Old Jack didn't get hurt."
Drake and Tony sat on the drafty bus, moving through the streets of Otisburg.
He overheard Drake talking to himself and couldn't help but glance at him.
"There was a second one?"
"There isn't usually, but after all, this is the East End, and sometimes more trouble shows up halfway through. This place can get really tense, and it's normal if one bus can't handle all the trouble."
'That's not normal at all.'
Tony silently complained.
"What happens to the bodies and blood left on the streets?"
"They disappear within fifteen minutes. The Gotham gangsters' corpse clean-up crew are professionals."
"What if the bus driver dies? Then what happens to the bus?"
"The drivers are usually professional and rarely die. There are lots of people who can shoot guns, but not many are willing to drive a bus like this. So when there's a gunfight, the driver mostly just puts on a show, and only when really unlucky do they get hit by stray or ricocheted bullets."
Tony's eyes lit up, suddenly intrigued, "How much do bus drivers get paid? Are they still hiring?"
Drake chuckled and said.
"The Old Jack's bus had three drivers last year. One got his neck pierced by grenade shrapnel, one was blinded by a ricochet bullet, and the last got shot after trying to raise prices during a clearance sale. This job changes drivers a lot here, and you might get a chance if you want in."
Tony's gaze became very clear, with no distractions at all.
"Old Jack is actually the bus's name? The drivers are really just tools... Wait, wait, people actually carry grenades?"
"Usually, no one brings grenades, and they wouldn't use them around here because they're too expensive and not worth it, but this is the East End. There are more lunatics here than sane people."
After saying that, Drake sighed instinctively, thinking about some parts of his past living in the East End.
While they were talking, the bus had already entered Otisburg. Drake saw this and quickly helped Tony get off the bus.
"Follow me. Your workplace isn't far from the bus stop."
Drake glanced at his watch, "We're lucky. It's only 8:20 now, so you won't be late for your first day."
"You're right."
Tony said quietly as he looked through the system store to see if there was anything to eat.
Compared to the messy, dirty, and old, small houses in the East End, Otisburg looked a lot better.
The area was full of tall buildings that sparkled in the sunlight, and he could see big factories with tall chimneys puffing out thick black smoke.
Even the old-looking neighborhoods were at least clean and bright. They felt a bit messy but not dirty or poor.
"Don't bother looking. There's nothing good over there. That used to be one of the top pharmaceutical companies, but after an accident, it turned into a hollow, second-rate company. I don't even know how much longer that building will last in Gotham."
Drake said with a mocking tone.
Tony immediately understood Drake's words, "That company is Wayne Pharmaceuticals?"
"Wayne? No, definitely not. Why do you ask?"
Drake looked at him with some confusion, "Even though Wayne is a playboy and a spoiled rich kid, at least he has some conscience."
"That company is the one that collaborated with Dr. Victor. We're friends now, so I'm not afraid to tell you."
"I found out something recently that Dr. Victor's disappearance wasn't just a simple lab accident. It happened because that company deliberately cut off his research project, which included his wife's life support system. That's what caused the accident."
Tony nodded in understanding. He wasn't very clear on the origins of Dr. Victor, also known as Mr. Freeze.
In his mind, Wayne Pharmaceuticals was the one helping Mr. Freeze, but maybe he remembered wrong or maybe this world exists in some multiverse he didn't know about.
Anyway, with DC's multiverse and constant universe reboots, even the editors don't always know what's happening in every story, and having a Mr. Freeze with a weird origin isn't impossible.
He followed Drake as they walked down the streets of Otisburg.
The sky was fully bright now, but the sunlight couldn't pierce through the heavy clouds hanging over Gotham.
The sky was gray and overcast, and there wasn't much warmth in the air.
He glanced at the buildings around him: Stagg Enterprises, the Ace Chemical Plant in the distance, the Gotham Museum of Art, and a few clubs.
"What's that? Is that an amusement park?"
Drake hurried to look and saw the Ferris wheel too.
"Yeah, but it's been abandoned for a while. They say after Mr. and Mrs. Wayne were killed, the theater there closed. After that, the security got worse and worse, and no one dared to bring their kids here anymore. So the amusement park just fell into ruin."
'It's probably better than the amusement park is abandoned. If they ever open it again, someone's probably going to get into trouble.'
Tony thought to himself that maybe it was better this way.
Commissioner Gordon poured his heart and soul into Gotham, yet his son turned into a villain, his daughter was kidnapped by Joker who sexually assaulted her and took photos.
If it were up to him, Tony really wouldn't want Gordon tied to a Ferris wheel looking at Barbara's photos.
Just as Tony was lost in thought, Drake stopped walking, "Stop staring. We're here."
He looked up and saw a small, bright, and clean restaurant standing right in the middle of the street.
It didn't look very big, and he felt a little bit relieved inside. In Gotham, the bigger the business, the more likely there was something shady going on.
A smaller target meant less chance of getting into trouble.
"I'm warning you, Donald is not an easy person. The less you talk, the less likely you'll anger him."
"Is he that powerful?"
"At the very least, the people behind him definitely are."
The two exchanged a few brief words, and Tony started feeling uneasy again.
As soon as he stepped inside, Tony's heart quickly sank.
He didn't know much about restaurant decor, but the fancy wallpaper on the hallway walls gave him a weird, bad feeling.
As they entered the main hall, Tony saw rows of beautiful, shiny wine cabinets, soft, warm lights, simple and elegant wall patterns, lively green plants, and people dressed in fancy clothes eating.
"It's the upper class."
He couldn't help muttering under his breath, "This is the 'small restaurant' you were talking about? Why isn't a place like this in the Diamond District? What's it doing here?"
"It's not like there aren't any rich people in Otisburg. This place was made to cater to the important big shots—don't overthink it. Just tell me, do you want to make money or not?"
"…"
At that moment, the receptionist turned to the two of them and said, "Mr. Donald is waiting for you. Please go directly to his office upstairs."
Regardless of how he answered, Tony had no choice now but to go meet this Donald.
Drake gave him a reassuring look and then led him toward the nearby staircase.
There are several burly men in black were already standing on either side of the corridor at the end of the staircase.
It was obvious that if the visitors hadn't been welcome, their attitude would've been a lot less friendly.
It took him several seconds to gather his chaotic thoughts before he followed Drake into Donald's office.
There, a solidly built, calm-looking middle-aged man in a high-end suit sat in a chair.
Even from a distance, as soon as he saw Drake, a faint smile appeared on his face. He stood up and walked toward the two of them.
"Drake, it's been a few months, and you're looking much better."
Donald said.
In fact, Drake had been feeling really worried and suffering, but Donald wasn't wrong either.
Since last night, the crushing weight on his shoulders had finally been lifted.
Even though the dark circles under his eyes and his thin face wouldn't get better overnight, Drake looked full of new energy, like he had a fresh start.
"Yeah, I've been lucky. My wife's illness has finally been cured—soon, I'll be taking her away from this city and going back to my hometown."
Tony wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but he could've sworn that after hearing Drake's words, a faint trace of envy and melancholy flashed in Donald's eyes.
"To be able to spend the rest of your life with the one you love, even in a city like Metropolis, is a rare kind of happiness. Congratulations, Drake."
"What's there to envy? I'm just a broke guy, and someone like you, rich and powerful, can go wherever you want. The kind of joy you experience is something I can't even imagine."
"Me?"
Donald lowered his head and let out a small chuckle, "I've lived here since I was a kid... I'm staying right here, and I'm not going anywhere."
Sensing the atmosphere beginning to grow a little strange, Drake quickly changed the subject and pushed Tony forward.
"This is my new friend who just came to Gotham. Like I said on the phone, he's new in town, doesn't know much about the city, and what he learned before doesn't really help. So he came to me for help."
Donald looked up again, and his eyes looked serious and calm. He looked Tony up and down carefully.
"What's your educational background?"
"I'm a college graduate."
"What skills do you have?"
"I used to make a living writing stories, but that trick stopped working here in Gotham."
"…Not bad. Very honest answer."
"?"
This time, Tony and Drake looked at Donald, thinking, 'Are you serious? This guy writes stories… and you call that good?'
"Do you know how to use a gun or a knife?"
"No, but I have them."
He said this while reaching for the gun on his waist but suddenly realized that might be a dangerous move, and he quickly put his hand back down.
"Not bad. Not stupid."
Donald nodded, "How did you get here today?"
"We took the bus."
"You got guts, and not too unlucky either, but you need to learn how to use that gun—otherwise, you won't last long in Gotham."
Hearing Donald's serious comments one after another, Tony, who was ready to give up, started to feel a little stressed.
'Damn it… no one who does well in Gotham acts like a normal person.'