By 1:00 p.m., Marcus finally returned to the East End slums riding his beloved vehicle.
To be clear, it wasn't because choosing took long. Buying it took ten minutes. The delay was because his chosen ride had… performance issues.
"Huff huff huff"
Soaked in sweat, Marcus looked like a dead dog as he pushed a folding bicycle to the roadside. A taxi stopped behind him. Drake stepped out, perfectly relaxed.
"Are you serious? It's just Otisburg to the East End. You look like you're about to die."
"I I start work at eight in the morning. You ride the whole way next time."
Marcus wasn't weak just average. He'd made it mostly by stopping frequently. At least Drake's taxi fare was outrageous. Seeing Drake's pained expression while paying helped balance Marcus's suffering.
"I told you get a cheap motorcycle or a used car," Drake sighed. "In Gotham, cars stop bikers, block bullets, and work as cover. Triple value."
Marcus finally caught his breath. "I don't know how to drive."
The license was system issued. He'd never actually learned. He'd only passed the written test back home.
Drake froze. "…Your license?"
"It's real. I just can't drive. If I buy a car, tomorrow we'll randomly select some unlucky pedestrian and start a second shootout."
Marcus had planned to buy driving skills from the system. Then he checked his asset points. Still three dollars.
"…Where's my four thousand?"
The system chimed in:
"Self Made Fortune System Notice: No labor, no reward. Asset points increase only after completing work time proportional to pay. Your asset settlement will occur after four weeks of work."
"…You son of a"
Marcus took a deep breath. "My tips?"
"Tips will be settled per completed order."
"…Okay. Fine."
At least emergency funds were possible. Since asset points hadn't increased, buying vehicles or driving skills was off the table.
So what transport made sense? Public transit existed but so did zero dollar shoppers and armed groups. Marcus wasn't keen on "friendly exchanges," especially with cash tips in his pocket.
Eventually, he chose a sixty dollar folding bike. Motorcycles got stolen. Bikes could be carried inside. And in the East End, the poorer you looked, the safer you were.
The only downside was effort and time. He never expected that what took Old Jack's bus forty minutes would take him until one in the afternoon. Old Jack really was something.
"At this pace, I'll be fired in three days."
Then the system chimed again:
"Bicycle Modification Service available. Starting at $50 asset points. Electric Wheelchair Modification Service: $100. Car Modification Service: $1000."
"…That's insane."
Ignoring the car mods what kind of cursed option was electric wheelchair? He read the description:
"Top speed: 80 mph. Spirit: absolute freedom. Stylish. Requires Wheelchair Driving Specialization. Unsafe driving makes relatives cry."
In Gotham, being crazy had one benefit. When you went crazy no one blinked.
Marcus was… tempted.