Chapter 31: An Unexpected Calamity

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Practice shooting? Like hell.

Although Ma Zhaodi dearly wanted to say that, the truth was that his marksmanship still was not quite up to standard.

If he had not purchased Basic Firearms Proficiency, that shot at the chandelier might well have veered off and hit the supervisor instead.

The old Gotham regulars had honed their shooting skills through decades of gunfights. Catching up to them in just a few short weekends was obviously impossible, but he still had to learn. Things like this were built up over time.

Of course, there was a faster way.

Ma Zhaodi opened the system shop and stared at the Intermediate Firearms Proficiency skill, priced at five thousand dollars. Then he silently backed out.

“Come to think of it, taking shortcuts really isn’t my style.”

……

That evening, Ma Zhaodi was driving his beloved car through the streets. The restaurant supervisor had to have something wrong with him; the shooting range he had recommended was in Burnley, which meant Ma Zhaodi had to drive a considerable distance from the East End all the way to Burnley just to practice shooting.

As Gotham’s central district, the area was undeniably prosperous and immaculate, a feast for the eyes. Numerous entertainment venues and upscale clubs were located there, but none of it meant anything to Ma Zhaodi.

He was broke to begin with. His fifty thousand dollars might make a tiny splash in a place like this, but it was nowhere near enough for anything. No matter how luxurious or extravagant the entertainment was, it had nothing to do with him. He could see it, but he could not afford to touch it.

“That bastard of a supervisor must be making a fortune,” he grumbled angrily. “If I’d known, I should’ve just pissed him off until he dropped dead. At least I’d have done the people a service.”

His name did, at least, carry some weight. The shooting range really had given him a thirty-percent discount, and the fees were not expensive—only a few dozen dollars a day. For maximum value, he always stayed there playing… practicing until dark before heading home.

“The car was actually refurbished pretty well, and it’s comfortable enough to drive. But Basic Driving Proficiency only lets me keep the car under control when I’m pushing it to a hundred kilometers per hour. Spending more than half an hour driving home is miserable…”

“Hey! Watch it, you bum!”

Just as Ma Zhaodi slowed down and cautiously drove past a gutter along the roadside, a man in a trench coat walking along the sidewalk with his arm around a woman suddenly frowned and shouted at him, “Don’t splash water on my clothes and shoes!”

Ma Zhaodi turned his head. The man’s brown trench coat did indeed appear to be made of fine material. The crisp suit beneath it and the gleaming belt around his waist were clearly high-end designer goods, and the expensive leather shoes on his feet looked equally costly. Ma Zhaodi had slowed down a little too late, and it seemed that a few specks of mud had splashed beside the man’s shoes.

Should he apologize?

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“Dumbass.”

Ma Zhaodi summed it up in one word, raised his left hand, and gave the man the middle finger. Then he immediately stepped on the accelerator. The roar of the engine made the man instinctively shield the blonde beside him as they hurriedly dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the spray thrown up by the tires.

“Must be some poor bastard from the East End…” the man cursed resentfully before turning to comfort the beauty beside him. “Darling, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” The blonde woman nestled against him. “Richard, what were you about to say?”

The man gently stroked her hair and continued with what he had been saying. “Oh, I was saying that we should leave Gotham for a while and find a little place in Paris. What do you think?”

The woman’s eyes immediately filled with delighted anticipation. “Really? Paris in autumn—I can’t even imagine how romantic it must be!”

“Richard!”

Ma Zhaodi heard someone calling a name behind him. He was somewhat on edge by then, and actually took a moment to think it over carefully. After confirming that the name did not belong to anyone important in his memory, he relaxed and returned his attention to the road.

“Richard Daniel!”

The man turned around in confusion. “What is it? Who…”

Rat-tat-tat-tat—

“For fuck’s sake, why am I running into another shootout?!”

Ma Zhaodi felt like he was about to lose his mind. He had been sent here to practice shooting precisely because he had run into a gunfight, but damn it, his instructor had never mentioned a practical review session on the drive home.

He stomped on the accelerator and fled as if his life depended on it, glancing back through the rearview mirror at what was happening behind him. The barrel of a submachine gun protruding from a black car spat fire, and a stream of bullets turned the astonished, unwilling man into a bloody mess within seconds. The black car then accelerated away and disappeared at the far end of the Burnley streets.

“That’s what they mean when they say the wicked eventually get what’s coming to them…” Ma Zhaodi shook his head. “Be more careful in your next life. Try not to run your mouth.”

There was no point thinking about saving him with injuries like that. Even if Ma Zhaodi had enough Asset Points and were willing to leap out of the car and sprint over to treat him, it would probably already have been too late. By the time he reached the man, those dozen or so seconds would most likely have left him well and truly dead.

The blonde woman beside Richard had not been hit by the bullets. She was now clutching the bloodstained body on the ground and sobbing hysterically. Unexpectedly, the two of them had truly been lovers, and the woman seemed to have genuinely loved Richard.

Unfortunately, bullets only obeyed physics. A bulletproof vest could stop bullets, but love could not.

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Ma Zhaodi drove back to Drake’s house. Although the idiot who had angered him had met a violent end, he was not in a particularly good mood. Part of it was because of the poor blonde girl, and part of it was because the man had not deserved to die.

But neither of those was what troubled him most. What troubled him most was how things could possibly have coincided so perfectly. He had exchanged barely a dozen seconds of angry words and confrontation with the man, and then the man had been shot dead.

The Gotham City Police Department would inevitably launch an investigation tomorrow, and Ma Zhaodi would certainly be dragged in to give a statement. All that, just because of a few seconds of arguing—and his entire weekend would be gone.

The one consolation amid the misfortune was that tomorrow was not a workday. Otherwise, if giving a statement cost him a full day of work, Ma Zhaodi would have been heartbroken over the few hundred Asset Points he lost.

“Even after crossing into another world, I still can’t escape the fate of being an overworked wage slave. This damn world, this damn Gotham…”

He opened the door with a lifeless expression, quietly sat down at the table, and began eating dinner while wondering how many people Batman would hang from statues tonight.

“What’s wrong, man?” Drake, who had not yet entered the room, noticed that something was off about his expression and instinctively asked.

“Nothing. I ran into another shootout on the way back.”

“You’re all right?”

“Hey, listen to yourself.” Ma Zhaodi rolled his eyes at him. “How many shootouts and assassinations could possibly be aimed at me? I’ve only been in Gotham for a few days. What kind of big shot could I have offended? Only one unlucky bastard died at the scene, some guy named Richard Daniel. Nobody else.”

“Hmm?” Drake’s expression turned grave. “Who died?”

“Richard Daniel. Why?”

“Oh, shit. The president of Gotham National Bank was assassinated right after resigning!”

“What?”