*Chapter 3: Seriously, Someone's Robbing a Broke Guy?*

Cody walked aimlessly through the streets of Gotham. What was strange was that he had been wandering for twenty minutes and hadn't run into a single mugger.

He even started to wonder if he'd somehow ended up in a fake Gotham.

"Hey, friend."

Just as he was thinking that, a man wearing sunglasses, a mask, and a hoodie stopped him on the street.

Holy crap, finally ran into one. Cody thought to himself. Whether or not he could get his first pot of gold tonight depended on this moment.

Even though begging might not count as getting rich through labor, at least it could help him buy something to eat. He figured he should save the money in the system as much as possible.

The next second, the man pulled a handgun from his waistband, pointed it at Cody, and his voice was fierce and loud: "Cut the crap, hand over everything you've got."

His voice was so loud that a few passersby couldn't help but glance over before quickly picking up their pace and disappearing down the street.

Looking at the dark muzzle of the gun, Cody's intended words about begging for money suddenly got stuck in his throat. Dang it, the criminals in Gotham City were just too high-level; they started right off by pulling out a handgun.

If you'd just pulled out a machete, I'd at least have a little courage left to talk.

Cody didn't dare look directly at the gun barrel anymore. Instead, he subconsciously glanced at the upper right corner of his vision. Rapid Health Recovery and Save Point were still there, ready to be used and take effect at any time. Most importantly, there were about ten minutes of safe time left, which helped him regain a little bit of sanity.

Seeing that he hadn't moved for a while, the man's voice got louder, almost a hysterical roar: "I said! Hand over everything you've got!"

The handgun was thrust forward fiercely, almost touching Cody's head. He instinctively recoiled a few steps, then stopped in place and tremblingly reached into his jacket pocket.

Then he pulled out two empty pockets, turned inside out, cleaner than his face.

The reason he said cleaner than his face was because Cody felt he had been in Gotham City for a while, and stubble had started to grow on his face.

"Are you f***ing kidding me?!"

Cody could feel that the robber opposite him was rapidly reaching a boiling point, so even though he was extremely scared, his survival instinct drove him to offer an explanation.

"You can't blame me for not having money. You think I want to be broke?"

"Who are you calling broke?!"

Dang it, why are these two words something someone would have PTSD over? Even I don't react that strongly.

Cody cursed inwardly, and his emotions actually calmed down a bit. He reached into his pants pocket: "Here, take a look, my pants pockets are empty too."

The man's gaze followed Cody's hand. Since he couldn't see clearly through the sunglasses at night, he had to use one hand to lift them up: "I'm watching you, don't try anything funny."

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Then he saw the not-trying-anything-funny Cody pull out two more empty pants pockets, turned inside out.

His voice even had a hint of a cry: "You must be hiding something! Take off your clothes! Let me search you!"

Cody didn't resist at all. He immediately took off his jacket and held his hands out to his sides.

If you can find a single penny, I'll call you the God of Wealth right here and now.

The man searched for a long time and indeed didn't find anything. He was almost in despair, sitting down on the ground blankly, ignoring Cody beside him. He didn't know what he was thinking, and after a while, he actually buried his head in his hands and started crying.

Cody put his jacket back on and sat down next to him to comfort him: "It's okay, everyone has bad luck sometimes. If you really don't want to leave empty-handed, I can give you my jacket."

"Who the hell wants your jacket?!"

The man threw the handgun over, hitting Cody's arm, which stung. He raised the gun and pointed it at Cody: "What do you, a broke guy, know?! You won't even make it through tonight!"

"I can tell you're new at this, doing this for the first time. I've been walking around the streets for so long, all the other muggers could tell I was a penniless broke guy with pockets cleaner than my face, but you couldn't."

The hand holding the gun trembled twice, and the tears in his eyes gradually turned into redness on his face.

"You're trying to rob someone at night wearing sunglasses, a mask, and a hoodie, but you're not wearing gloves and you haven't even taken the safety off your gun. Your gun might not even be real. You didn't drag me into an alley right away after getting control of me; your voice was too loud when you were robbing me, drawing too much attention; you repeatedly extended the barrel too far forward, and when I was reaching into my pants pockets, your attention completely left the hand holding the gun. You gave someone too many opportunities to grab the gun."

"You f***ing—"

"Your emotions aren't stable enough, and your robbery wasn't thorough enough. A thief shouldn't leave empty-handed. You could have taken my jacket and other clothes, but you didn't. You could have left immediately after failing the robbery, but you didn't do that either; you sat here and cried."

"You f***ing shut up!"

The man swung the butt of the gun again, but Cody dodged it this time.

"I know you're in a hurry, but take it easy for a second. Most people don't just come out onto the street to rob someone for no reason, so what happened? What if I can help?"

The man didn't want to waste words with him. He put away his handgun and wiped the tears from his face. When he took off his sunglasses, Cody saw his bloodshot eyes, dark circles, and his濒临 (bīnglín - on the verge of) breakdown mental state.

"There are already enough lunatics in Gotham City, no need for one more to appear."

Cody said behind him: "You're out here robbing for money, so you need money; you're using a fake gun, which indicates a relatively high moral and educational level; you have pretty heavy dark circles, meaning the money problem has been bothering you for a long time; the amount of money you need must not be small."

"You can't exactly go rob a bank, that's the business of supercriminals and gangs. I don't recommend you get involved. Trying your luck on the street is one way, trying your luck with me is another. If you tell me what's up, maybe I can help you."

The man's steps paused for a moment, and he spoke again in a hoarse voice: "Why would you help me?"

"I don't help people for free. I'm new in Gotham City, don't know anyone, and I need a relatively reliable job. Plus, I don't have anywhere to stay tonight. If I can't help you, we go our separate ways – you go home, I sleep on the street. If I can help you, we hit it off – I'll stay at your place temporarily and help you solve your problem, and you help me find a reliable job. Of course, an unreliable one is fine too, as long as nobody dies."

The man hesitated for a long time, finally turned around and walked back, slowly sitting down next to Cody.

"You're not from Gotham. I'll trust you this once." He took off his glasses and stared blankly at the dark Gotham night sky: "Anyway, I don't have any other options."