*Chapter 12: Otisburg District*

The beat-up old bus rattled down the road, weaving through traffic and the cold, thin mist of Gotham's East End, driving all the way from the east side of uptown to the west side.

"Thank goodness there wasn't a second shootout, and Old Jack didn't get hurt."

Drake and Cody were sitting on the drafty bus, traveling through the streets of Otisburg. Cody heard Drake mutter to himself and couldn't help but turn his head and look at him.

"You mean there was a second one of those?"

"Depends on the situation. Usually, no, but that's the East End – you know? Sometimes a second wave of guys jumps on halfway. It's normal for this place to get overloaded sometimes; one bus just isn't enough."

That's not normal at all, Cody thought silently.

"What happens to the bodies and blood left on the street?"

"They'll be gone in fifteen minutes. Gotham's body disposers are pros."

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

"The drivers usually don't die. They're just atmosphere, you know? It's like badminton or tennis, somebody's gotta serve first. As for why – there are tons of people who can shoot, but not many willing to drive a bus like this. So now the drivers just fake the shootouts. They only get hit by stray bullets or ricochets when they're really unlucky."

Cody's eyes lit up, suddenly intrigued. "What's the pay like for a bus driver? Are they hiring?"

Drake chuckled at him. "Old Jack here went through three drivers last year. One got his neck pierced by grenade shrapnel, one got blinded by a ricochet, and the last one tried to jack up the price when selling a gun and got his nuts shot off. The position turns over real fast. There's definitely an opportunity if you want it."

Cody's eyes instantly became perfectly clear, completely free of any such ideas.

"Old Jack is the freakin' bus name? The drivers are just pure cannon fodder, huh?... Wait, wait, people carry grenades?"

"Usually, no one carries them, and they wouldn't use them in a place like this because they're too expensive, not worth it – but you know, this is the East End. There are more crazy people here than normal ones."

Drake sighed instinctively after saying that, maybe thinking about some of his past living in the East End.

While they were talking, the bus had already pulled into the Otisburg district. Seeing this, Drake quickly pulled Cody off the bus.

"Come with me, work isn't far from the bus stop." Drake glanced at his watch. "We're lucky, it's only 8:20. At least you won't be late for your first day of work."

"You're right," Cody muttered, scrolling through his system's shop to see if there was anything edible. "But I almost got shot in the head on my first day's commute, so my brain might have a small issue with the word 'lucky'."

Compared to the chaotic, filthy East End with its dilapidated, squat buildings, Otisburg looked a lot better.

Right in front of them was an area filled with clusters of buildings and gleaming corporate towers. Further away were some areas with tall factories, black smoke billowing from their long chimneys. And even the residential areas that looked a bit old were at least clean and bright, giving off a feeling of being just messy, not dirty and poor.

"Don't stare, there's nothing good over there," Drake said with a hint of mockery in his tone. "Used to be one of the top pharmaceutical companies, but because of an accident, it turned into a second-rate company that's all show and no substance. Wonder how much longer that building will stand in Gotham."

Cody immediately caught his drift. "Is that company Wayne Pharmaceuticals?"

"Wayne? No, of course not. Why would you ask that?" Drake looked at him, confused. "Even if little Wayne is a playboy and a spoiled rich kid, at least he's got a bit of a conscience."

"That company is the one that worked with Dr. Victor. Now that we're friends, I'm not afraid to tell you."

"I dug up some stuff during this time. Mr. Victor's disappearance wasn't just a lab accident. It's because this company deliberately cut off his experiment – which was his wife's life support system – that the accident happened."

Cody nodded in understanding. He wasn't super clear on Victor, or Mr. Freeze's, origin story. In his memory, it should have been Wayne Pharmaceuticals that helped Mr. Freeze. But maybe he remembered wrong, or maybe this world was part of some multiverse he didn't know about.

Anyway, DC's multiverse and constant reboots mean things change all the time. Forget him, even the editors probably didn't know what was in the universes they hadn't drawn yet. It wasn't impossible for there to be a Mr. Freeze with a slightly different origin.

Just gotta do what you're capable of, he comforted himself. What's the use of worrying about this stuff? You can't even use a gun right now, and a random thug could just knife you.

He followed Drake walking down the street in Otisburg. By now, it was broad daylight, but the sun couldn't pierce the thick storm clouds hanging over Gotham. The sky was gray, and there wasn't much warmth. Living in Gotham, it always felt like it could start raining at any second.

Cody quickly scanned the buildings he could see – Stagg Enterprises, Ace Chemical plant in the distance, Monarch Playing Card Company, and some colorful clubs.

It was probably a good thing he didn't remember how significant these places were, otherwise, he definitely would have sighed right then about how many "immortals" were lined up like hemp stalks here.

Of course, when he saw a towering Ferris wheel peeking out from behind a building, his memory was somewhat jogged.

"Oh... The Killing Joke."

"What?"

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

Drake, who was rushing along, followed his gaze and also saw the Ferris wheel, sighing involuntarily.

"Yeah... but it's abandoned now. According to them, the murder of the Waynes led to the theater here being abandoned too. After that, the crime got worse and worse, and no one dared to bring kids here anymore, so the amusement park just fell into ruin."

Cody thought to himself that it was probably a good thing it was abandoned. The next time that amusement park was up and running, it would most likely mean bad luck for someone.

Poor Commissioner Gordon poured his heart and soul into Gotham, only for his son to become a villain, and his daughter to be kidnapped by a psychopath and turned into some leather-clad freak, and then a lunatic shot her through the spine and took nude photos.

If he could, Cody really didn't want to see him tied to a Ferris wheel looking at pictures of Barbara.

Just as Cody was still thinking, Drake stopped walking.

"Stop looking. We're here."