Chapter 1: Who in Their Right Mind Would Look for a Legal Job in Gotham?
Cold. Shaking.
A loud metallic clatter echoed in his ears. Half-conscious, Marcus Dean was jolted awake by the rhythmic shaking of the floor beneath him. His skull throbbed dully from the impact.
"Sir."
The voice echoed, over and over again, like a ripple through a half-remembered dream.
Who was that?
"Sir!"
Who were they calling?
Me?
"Wake up, sir!"F
A blast of damp, frigid air slammed into Marcus's face, seeping into his nostrils. The air was tinged with blood and something else—something off. Something dangerous.
That smell pierced straight through his nose and stabbed deep into his soul.
In an instant, his thoughts surged to the surface like a drowning man gasping for air.
He snapped his eyes open—to an unfamiliar ceiling.
No… not a ceiling.
The ground was rocking beneath him. Metallic clanks and groans rang out rhythmically. Through the window to his side, thick storm clouds raced past at breakneck speed. Flanking him on either side were rows of seats. He was sprawled out in the aisle between them.
He was on a train.
But why the hell was he on a train?
Marcus pushed himself up with a groan, glancing around. The train car was empty, save for a uniformed attendant standing nearby.
"Sir, are you all right?"
Why was a foreign train conductor speaking to him in English?
And more importantly—why the hell was he on a foreign train?
That couldn't be right. He hadn't been on a train at all!
Marcus shook his head hard, trying to snap himself out of the fog. Trying to convince himself this was just a dream. But unfortunately, everything around him felt painfully real.
The chill in the air. The cold bite of steel under his hands. The scratches and scuffs along the train's interior. The steady roar of its movement. It all screamed one thing:
This was no dream.
"But I was just staying up late writing, wasn't I?"
Marcus strained to recall his last memory. He'd been typing furiously, probably nodded off mid-sentence, head slumped on the keyboard.
So this had to be a dream, right? Or maybe some deranged reality show had decided to prank him?
That had to be it.
Still groggy, Marcus sat down in the nearest seat. The attendant kept asking about his condition, though he'd gone quiet now—clearly unnerved. Marcus just stared back at him, silent, eyes glassy and unreadable.
Something about that look chilled the man to the bone.
This wasn't a normal passenger. And with the train nearing its final stop, the guy wasn't about to take chances.
Because that final stop… was Gotham.
Normal people might enter Gotham City. But no normal person chose to go to Gotham.
Mustering what little courage he had left, the attendant asked one last time. But the strange Asian passenger still didn't reply—only stared at him with that ghostly expression.
Unable to take the pressure any longer, the conductor mumbled a quick apology and fled the car.
Marcus watched him go, then turned his attention to the rain-smeared window.
Beyond the fogged glass, he saw the dark skyline of a city drenched in shadow. A looming clocktower pierced the sky. Gothic spires and looming skyscrapers filled the horizon. Far in the distance: grimy, low-rise buildings, graffiti-stained alleyways, and flickering neon signs in English.
A clocktower? Slums? English signs?
Where the hell was this?
"Where the hell am I...? This can't be anywhere near home," he muttered.
WOOOOO—
The train's horn blared. It began to slow, grinding to a halt as it pulled into the station.
Marcus stared blankly at the unfamiliar platform outside. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed passengers stood beneath a rusted canopy.
Clank.
The train doors hissed open. Passengers with luggage began to file out, shuffling past Marcus like a tide of ghosts.
Before he knew it, he was swept along with them.
A stray leaf caught in the wind—adrift, directionless.
"Why the hell won't I wake up? What kind of dream is this?"
He stumbled off the train in a daze. But after only a few steps, he froze.
Above the platform, in bold, glowing letters:
Gotham City
"…?"
Whatever desperate delusion he'd been clinging to shattered instantly.
Marcus might not have been fluent in English, but he'd seen enough superhero movies to know exactly what that name meant.
"You've got to be kidding me. Who the hell dropped me into this godforsaken nightmare?!"
He clutched his face with both hands, nearly hyperventilating.
There was no way he was surviving his first night here—not without ending up gutted in some back alley, stripped for parts. Gotham wasn't just America's most crime-infested city. It was a black hole that chewed up decent people and spat out corpses.
Elsewhere, a petty thief might just be a criminal. In Gotham? If you only stole, didn't shoot, didn't kill or torch a building—you were eligible for the Citizen of the Year award.
Seventy percent of the city's population? Criminals. The rest? Terrorists, assassins, corrupted billionaires, lone wolf supervillains… and, of course, Gotham's infamous crown jewel:
The world's most notorious psychopath.
Then you had the unluckiest bastards of all—clueless nobodies like Marcus Dean, who stumbled in with no idea what they'd just signed up for.
As for the cops?
Let's just say there wasn't a single officer in Gotham PD who hadn't cut deals with either the mobs or the maniacs. This was a city soaked in rot. If anything here wasn't tainted by darkness… it was probably just Marcus himself, fresh off the train.
Ding.
Startup System Loaded.
Welcome, user. Please work hard, earn diligently, and build your fortune from scratch.Money opens doors. So long as you're broke, your journey continues.
Current Assets: $ $7Active Mission: Earn your first honest dollar in Gotham through legitimate work.
Beginner Perks Available:
▸ Basic English FluencyPrice: $1Note: "How do you spell abandon again?"
▸ Local IdentityPrice: $1Note: Born and raised in Gotham. Knows the difference between a mugging and a shootout.
▸ Rapid HealingPrice: $1Note: Effective and affordable. Next time: 99,999% off.
▸ Checkpoint SavePrice: $1Note: This ain't a sitcom. Pay up next time.
Note: Only income earned through legal employment is valid. No shortcuts. Hard work is your only path to riches.
Marcus stared at the system menu like it had personally betrayed him. His emotions rose and fell like a crashing rollercoaster. A thousand thoughts surged through him—until all that was left… was a long, exhausted sigh.
"Seriously… who the hell would be dumb enough to try and get a legal job in Gotham?"
(End of Chapter)