*Chapter 10: Drake's Top-Tier Improv*

So, a new innocent, unlucky soul just showed up at the Gotham train station.

In a place like Gotham, you don't usually see many strangers. And if you do, they're mostly tied to local operations – we're talking mobsters, enforcers, dealers, human traffickers, or criminals on the run because they crossed the wrong people outside. Basically, anyone arriving by train in Gotham isn't typically your model citizen or a wealthy big shot.

Over the years, no clueless capitalist from the outside has really set their sights on Gotham for legitimate business. Sure, there's plenty of cooperation, but the public communication is minimal. It's mostly a matter of mutual need – you need some shady channels, I need some greenbacks.

Even so, the vast city of Gotham occasionally gets a few exceptions. Every now and then, some genuinely innocent, unlucky folks stumble into this not-so-innocent city.

One example is James Gordon. He walked into the Gotham City Police Department alone, armed with nothing but passion and a sense of justice, completely unprepared as he jumped into the cesspool that was the GCPD. And to this day, he's actually made a name for himself there. Don't get me wrong, the GCPD still isn't exactly a beacon of light and justice, but there's no doubt Gordon's efforts haven't been for nothing.

Another is Gotham's White Knight, Harvey Dent. As a district attorney who absolutely despises evil, he's done a lot of good work in Gotham, setting things right and going after the bad guys. Of course, he was a bit luckier than Gordon, because after he arrived in Gotham, he had help from a certain incredibly violent psychopath and the head of the GCPD, James Gordon.

And the next one is this kid who just got off the train, looking like he's already got a bit of Gotham in him.

Yeah, you could also say he looks a little crazy. I mean, who isn't a little crazy if they're trying to make it in Gotham?

The ones who aren't are practically saints.

What about everyone else? Well, sure, there were others. Some became part of Gotham's darkness, while others just became part of Gotham's body count. As for those who couldn't fit in, they left the city pretty quickly. Even if they didn't leave right away, they'd leave eventually. Simply put, they don't belong here.

So the common thread among those three people isn't just that they were innocent, but also that they're still alive and trying to stay that way in Gotham.

At least, that's what Selina thought.

She usually doesn't show her face during the day – cats are more active at night, after all. But she occasionally checks out the train station to see if any easy marks or big spenders are brave enough to walk onto Gotham's streets with a ton of cash. It's part of her job, really – snatching shiny treasures from fat cats and using them to decorate her little cat den, or helping out the unlucky folks in the East End when she has downtime.

Because sometimes, small-time thieves rip off the wrong person and end up getting a bullet to the head. Even in Gotham, that kind of punishment is a bit excessive.

Just yesterday, she saw one such guy getting off the train. He had clear eyes but seemed completely clueless, totally on guard but also full of tells. He just reeked of a strange poverty and a detachment from this city.

Maybe he'd heard of Gotham's infamous reputation, or maybe he'd seen the local way of doing things from the train, but he still stubbornly came to the city anyway. Broke and totally lost.

Selina grew up in the rough East End, so she could spot someone like him a mile away. He didn't have the guts to be a tough guy, or the ambition to fix things. He was just a lost puppy who'd wandered away from home.

What could he possibly do coming to Gotham? Get a job?

Although his appearance was strange, Selina still gave him a small warning as a favor. She took the only item he had on him, his driver's license, out of his jacket pocket, looked at it, and then put it back in his pants pocket.

Honestly, she regretted it a little when she was out stealing that night. At the time, she was so shocked that there was a guy this broke in the world that she forgot to slip some money into his pocket.

Yeah, that pocket was really clean. All those socialites and wealthy women at Gotham galas carefully maintain their faces, but even their faces couldn't compare to how clean his pocket was.

So today, when she saw Cody on the street, Selina was a little surprised. After all, she'd roamed the streets and alleys of Gotham's East End last night and only saw two dead gang members. She figured the outsider she'd seen at the station would have been handled so completely there wouldn't even be a trace left.

But this guy apparently found a place to spend the night on his first day here – and even made a friend.

The hat and scarf he was wearing were old, but they weren't dirty or torn. He looked like he was in good spirits, and his clothes weren't messed up. So, he must have slept in a safe shelter and on a real bed, not on the filthy floor of some abandoned building.

Add to that the gun in his hand and the guy next to him pulling him onto the bus and into cover, it was obvious they had a really good relationship, and this guy had helped him out a lot since he was broke.

That guy wasn't a local Gothamite either; Selina could tell clearly.

Based on his expression, the guy trusted him a lot. Maybe they were brothers who hadn't seen each other in years?

If so, then his brother wasn't doing a very good job, because he himself had a detachment that didn't fit in with Gotham. He shouldn't have let his friend come into this city.

Selina stood on the rooftop with interest, watching the two people hiding around the corner. The broke guy from the train station wasn't just incredibly ordinary, he was also incredibly unlucky. She thought for a long time but couldn't figure out how a harmless broke guy could manage to tick off such an angry, hot-headed shooter.

Yeah, what the heck is going on? Cody was wondering the same thing.

"So, if I push you out, do you think he'll spare me?"

"Depends on how mad he is. Guys this riled up usually take everyone out. You know, 'cause fighting feels good."

"Well, I still think there's hope. He looks like he still has a bit of sense."

"Oh yeah?"

Drake turned his head and started yelling insults around the corner: "You pathetic loser! You can't even hit anything but my worn-out shoes with that gun! My brother says your aim with that thing is worse than when he peed when he was three! At least when he missed, he splashed somebody! Just stop using the gun! Go home and practice shooting a handgun!"

After yelling, Drake pulled his head back from the corner and gave Cody a proud grin.

"Now he probably doesn't have any sense left."