Five minutes. That was how long it took for one of the weirdest, most rushed job interviews in history—after which Ren was officially employed by a place called Red Dragon Restaurant.
"Be here by ten every morning to clock in and get changed into uniform," the floor manager said while leading Ren on a tour of the place. "You can show up earlier if you want—breakfast and lunch are both free for staff in the employee mess. You get a two-hour break starting at two p.m., then work until ten at night. Responsibilities: greet customers, take orders, serve plates, clean tables. Pay's twenty-five bucks an hour, five days a week."
"Sometimes there might be… situations," he added casually. "You don't need to do anything. Just keep the guests calm and avoid escalating the problem. Someone else will handle the cleanup."
The manager strolled through the halls like it was any other Tuesday.
"Keep your eyes open. You'll need to know a lot—menu, specials, and, uh… off-menu requests. Try to accommodate those too."
"Any requests?"
"Depends who's asking. If the Roman or someone like that walks in and wants you to lick his shoes, you lick his damn shoes. But if it's some nouveau riche jackass trying to throw weight around, feel free to put a bullet in him after he steps outside. Just… don't get blood on the building."
"…Got it."
The manager glanced at him with a smirk. "Boss told me to give you the full rundown. So here it is: Learn how to shoot. In Gotham, you don't survive without a little predator in you."
He handed Ren a small card.
"Call this number. Our staff get 50% off at this shooting range. Or, if you've got balls or connections, go find yourself a cheaper place in East End."
Right. Employee benefit number one: firearm training discount. Ren accepted the card with dead eyes.
"Oh, and once you get your first paycheck, get yourself a ride," the manager added. "Boss says, before you joined Red Dragon, riding that deathtrap of a city bus was 'dangerous' in air quotes. Now that you work here? It's actually dangerous. Change your commute, fast."
Employee benefit number two: you now have an automatic target on your back. Excellent.
"Can I… uh, advance a month's wages?"
The manager frowned. "Haven't lived here long, huh? We do biweekly pay. But the boss said you can get a one-time advance of four weeks' base pay—five grand pre-tax. You have a bank account?"
"Yeah."
"Cool. Once your onboarding's done, we'll transfer it. Post-tax. Or you can take it in cash if you prefer."
Nice. Ren mentally fist-pumped. Guess my stereotype of Gotham was spot-on. It's scary as hell—but it's not poor.
In truth, Gotham's income gap was colossal. The East End was hellish and violent, yes—but the Diamond District was dripping in wealth. Overall, Gotham ranked among the most economically powerful cities in the country.
And the take-home from that $5,000 was just his base pay. Tips made up the lion's share of a server's income—and tips were in cash, no taxes.
Aside from the part where he'd have to spend twelve hours a day in the restaurant—ten of them working—and the fun night walks home through Gotham with a wad of cash in his pocket, this job was basically… perfect.
So far.
Still, one thing nagged at him: after Drake left, where was he going to live?
He asked if he could stay in the restaurant at night.
The manager gave him a strange look, half-amused, half-knowing. "The restaurant has… night operations. But you're not cleared for that. Yet."
Ren didn't press. Whatever kind of people came in after dark, he didn't want to meet them.
Since he didn't need to start until tomorrow, Drake took him out of Red Dragon. Priority now was finding transportation—or somewhere to live—since taking that bus again was now officially a terrible idea.
Fortunately, Drake knew the Otisburg area well. Back when he first arrived in Gotham, he'd started out here too—close to the pharma company that partnered with Dr. Victor Fries.
But juggling his wife's care, tracking down Dr. Fries, and just staying alive meant he'd always had to settle for low-paying jobs. And with Otisburg's rent steadily rising, even he had to move out eventually.
Drake suggested Ren find a cheap apartment nearby. Safer, easier for work.
But Ren wasn't sold.
They crunched the numbers together. Unlike most Americans, Ren wasn't used to debt or living off credit cards. Renting a place here would burn through his entire paycheck—and then some. He'd be borrowing just to live.
But money wasn't the only issue.
This was Gotham. That amusement park in the distance? Gave him flashbacks.
And that pharma company? Confirmed—there had been an "incident" where someone fell into a vat of chemicals. Classic.
Add in the botanical garden he spotted nearby? Yep—Poison Ivy. Now add Joker, Mr. Freeze, Falcone, the Roman, possibly Penguin—
Hell no.
Even if things were fine most of the time, when something did happen here, it went nuclear. No warning. No survivors.
Ren had already checked the system store. He could buy shooting skills or a one-time checkpoint. Sure, those might help against junkies and thugs in the East End… but they wouldn't do squat against Gotham's spandex-clad lunatics and psychopathic warlords.
After careful deliberation, he turned to Drake with a straight face and said:
"I've decided. I prefer East End."
"…You what?"
"The junkies, pimps, thugs, gangsters, pickpockets—they suit my lifestyle better."
Ren waved a hand solemnly. "I'd rather take my chances with East End's predictable danger than Otisburg's sudden death from a clown with a bazooka. We're leaving."
Drake sighed. Once Ren made up his mind, there was no stopping him. He gave up trying to convince him otherwise. Since it was still early, they decided to skip the bus and go shopping.
Time to find Ren a new ride.